


Book 2: The Dove Calling

by pinkichor



Series: Manors and Midnights [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: ?? idk what else to tag that lol, Anal Fingering, Angst, Bath Time, Betrayal, Blood Curse, Deception, Dirty Talk, Emotional crisis, Empath, Fantasy Gore, Firecat Nora, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Hate Kissing, Healing Magic, Healthiest Unhealthy Relationship???, Ice Play, Lies, M/M, Magic, Magic tattoo, Massage, Master/Servant undertones, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Memories, Polyamory, Possession, Post-Betrayal, Praise Kink, Protection Magic, Psychological Trauma, Pure Chaos, Recovered Memories, Reincarnation, Revenge, Riding, Rimming, Sex Toys, Soul Bond, Soul tattoos, Taemin gets a cameo, Tattoo Kink, Tattoo Pain, Tattoo Play, Tattoos, Terrible Plans, Theft, Trust Issues, Unresolved Tension, Verbal Discrimination, Verbal Humiliation, Witch Hunters, Witchcraft, Witches, bambam can never have anything nice basically, demonic creatures, everyone wants to sacrifice themselves game, idk guys its complicated btu still healthy lmao, lawful good emotional manipulation, magic sex, mirror kink, pain play, portal magic, self-depreciation, sex in hard times, slight PTSD, soft servitude, the coven can never have anything nice bc of gyeom and greg, the last two go together pls dont hurt me, white lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 88,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkichor/pseuds/pinkichor
Summary: Jackson curled his hands around Yugyeom’s wrists. “What are you doing, Gyeom?” His eyes glazed over with worry and his voice was concerned enough to nearly break Yugyeom.“I’m not even sure myself.”





	1. Scene I

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are finally a few months later with the continuation, Winter posting as promised. As always Anto was the absolute Best through the creation of this. I struggled A l ot with the outline/layout of events for this one and dialogue and she aided me through it even when I was overwhelmed and thinking of giving up. So give props to her for being my co-author/light beta. She also made a cover for this book as some may have seen on our twitters so please [check it out here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1082784107405418496) if you haven't. 
> 
> And just rules as always: this DOES keep in line with book 1, it is not a standalone. So if you're finding this series for the first time through book2 posting, it's beneficial to read book1 first to understand the nuances and developments that have happened thus far. The tags continue on so I've added them here as they still are relevant to this part of the tale. Other Tag and Rating updates as we go just to avoid spoilers and such. Ya know the drill. Also probs some mistakes left bc I only ever had the chance to edit/reread when i was tired so forgive that thanks
> 
> And another huge thank you to anyone who read book 1 and kudos or commented or sought us out to tell us it was cool. Honestly it means so much since this au is so close to both of us. So thanks for any type of support you've given for this story. And with that, I'll let you finally begin Manors and Midnights Book 2: The Dove Calling.

Tensions were high after Youngjae left. They all tiptoed around Jaebeom, letting him take jobs on his own since most of them were low level hauntings and possessions. Mark didn’t think that would last long, but they enjoyed the break while they could. They wanted it to last, and tried desperately to bring Youngjae back so they could explain everything. Help him understand what was happening.

It was near useless for Mark, Jackson, and Jinyoung to find him. They were the worst candidates, and Youngjae didn’t even respond when Jaebeom went to the apartment. He called, he pleaded, he apologized for things he wasn’t even sure warranted an apology; he couldn’t even blow the door in because it was locked and protected with a solid, silent power. And it was possible Youngjae was going to crawl his way back into the void, and the entire cycle would soon start over.

Yugyeom and Bambam kept waiting for him at school, checking up on his classes and teachers, but no one knew anything. He had just sent in a doctor’s note that said he wouldn’t attend class for awhile. Yugyeom asked his own mother to check on Youngjae, since he was always her favorite and he liked to listen to her. He at least opened the door and accepted the soup and flu medicines she brought, and that was it. No one else tagged along with her to see how he looked, or to beg him to at least answer their texts.

He wanted to live in isolation, and they had to let him.

If it had only been a couple of days, Yugyeom would be forgiving. But it was going on over a week now without any real explanation from the coven, and both his and Bambam’s questions were shot down with vague answers or promises of later.

It was more than later. Yugyeom had enough.

Jaebeom was on the loveseat in the living room, while the other four sat on the couch, all focused on their own things with the television off. Bambam glanced up at Yugyeom as he approached, kicking up so he could climb off the couch easier, and stood beside him. At least they were all used to the living room being an interrogation room. Because he missed his friend, and would do anything to bring him back.

“It’s never going to be the right time, so can you just tell us what the fuck really happened? Even when Youngjae hyung’s sad, he always smiles and greets my mom. But he just took the soup and locked her out. He hates you, and by association, he hates us.”

Bambam hooked their arms together. “We miss him, but he won’t even accept that.”

Jinyoung looked to Jaebeom for permission, but he just closed his book and tossed it on the coffee table before going down the left hall. “And what’s up with him? He’s like a bomb rolling away before you guys can make him explode.”

“It’s not anything you can fix,” Mark shook his head.

Yugyeom stepped forward in his frustration, but Bambam pulled him back. “It’s fine, Gyeom. Just breathe, okay?” He put his hand over Yugyeom’s chest, staring the other three down. “Look, I know Youngjae hyung has been weird. He was so jealous watching you cuddle Jaebeom hyung when he was sick that he bent a spoon. So if this is a jealousy thing, or a breakup thing, we need to know. We can’t get through to him if we don’t know what’s on his mind right now.”

Mark scoffed, but Jackson pushed his shoulder. “It’s more complicated,” the blonde replied. “It’s not a truth you want.”

“This isn’t the life we want, but we’re here. If we don’t get the truth, we leave, too,” Yugyeom threatened. Bambam didn’t object to that condition.

Jinyoung sighed when he straightened his posture and gestured for them to sit down. They took the loveseat so they could still keep eye contact, but it was far enough away that Yugyeom couldn’t break one of their necks if they played too many guessing games.

“You know the only way we can repair the boundaries and return to our realm is if we find the soul of our king.”

Yugyeom already didn’t like where this was going. He gripped onto Bambam’s hand.

“My incident log, changes in behaviors, in attacks, and even a poltergeist inside the house when we have it protected by any dark energy...it connects to him.”

“Youngjae hyung doesn’t want me dead. Why would he have hurt me? Or help Yugyeom take care of your injuries?”

“He didn’t remember then. He probably still doesn’t fully remember,” Jackson said.

“His jealousy summoned the poltergeist, but when you found our uniforms, the crown triggered something,” Mark explained.

“Wasn’t that yours?” Bambam asked.

Jinyoung picked absently at his nails. “It’s mine. Was mine.”

“Why would that trigger his memories?” Yugyeom set Bambam’s hand free and ran his palm along the arm of the loveseat.

The witches paused. It was obviously Jinyoung’s story to tell or not tell, and they were giving him time to find the words. He clung to Jackson and fidgeted with his hair, his fingers, his clothes, anything he could reach as a lifeline. “We were both of royal blood, and I was like his mentor--and friend. But the council gave him a lot of reasons to mistrust me. Despise me, really. They framed me as a traitor and in his hurt, the king stripped away everything I had.”

Yugyeom wasn’t going to ask for more details, but he’d eventually have to know. They still needed more solid ground for wholly trusting the coven, especially after accusing Youngjae of holding dark powers, and the countless arguments that ended on some kind of physical threat. The house was emotionally chaotic, and Yugyeom couldn’t even hear his own thoughts very well. But if Youngjae was the soul they’d been looking for, he could understand Jaebeom’s disappearance, isolating himself in any way he could.

He remembered the first times he had asked about their pasts. How Jaebeom was too close to the king and the loss hit deep enough to break him in the witch realm. If they didn’t get Youngjae back, the entire universe would collapse in on itself. What happened in their realm would be brought here, just like Jinyoung had said.

“Jinyoung was the catalyst, but he’s likely to remember hating all of us. We tried until the very end to save him from corruption, but he was in love with us being his enemies. Even Jaebeom. Everything the king did fucked with his head.” Mark twirled a piece of his hair and let his hand fall heavy into his lap. “The king self-destructed, and Jaebeom was the explosion. Two wholes inside a half.”

“What do we do? If hyung’s the soul,” Bambam nervously asked.

“Right now? Nothing you’d like.” Jackson didn’t clarify the solutions, but given the track record, Yugyeom assumed it involved tragedy and disaster.

 

*

 

Bambam searched for a quiet space. Not to sit and tear himself apart over how to save Youngjae, but to process. He needed to clear his head while editing a video project, but the witches whispered, erupting in booming objections now and again while Yugyeom played his music over speaker to drown them out. The temperature outside was uncomfortably hot, and the ever-present protective fog surrounding the house had shifted into a thick, humid smog absorbing every bit of ray from the sun and any moisture vaporizing from the soils. 

He knew about the upstairs, but he rarely saw anyone but Jaebeom use it. His only option was to find an open room down the left hall and pray he could escape the echoes of their brainstorming. But even as he stood at the hall entrance, his heart beat wildly with panic, which was ironic since he had only ever been down here when his heart was slowed or stopped. The phantom heat of candles grazed his skin, and he still heard the screams of the spirits possessing him as they were tortured out of his body. He wasn’t sure if his mind ever healed after the Fae had taken hold, but at least he was still semi-functioning. He’d adapted to the nightmares, and added Jackson’s purification and protectant teas to his list of daily drinks, the side effect being sometimes he fell asleep without realizing it when he had a million school projects to do, his life to look after, and bedside manners he should have been a part of. 

He gulped down half his bottle of water and cautiously tiptoed through the hall. Any outside or sudden noise made him jump and pause, but towards the end of the hall, opposite to the room Jackson had dragged him into for the Sunsift, there was an open room. 

Most of the curtains were closed, but he could feel the breeze come through the windows behind them. He saw Nora, separated into her two other companions, Kunta and Odd, stretched out at various angles on the floor. They immediately glanced at him when he stepped inside, growling quiet and low in their throats. 

“Hey, sweet, fluffy, firekids,” Bambam’s voice shook as he tried to appeal to them as he did with regular cats. “Mind sharing for a bit? Since you almost destroyed my hair and all last time.” He hushed and moved further in, bending to set his laptop down. When he did, the three firecats hopped away and a wide, black figure lurched forward. 

He saw it was Jaebeom, eyes heavy and unfocused with interrupted sleep. Bambam finally accepted that he was always meant to die, no matter how many times they brought him back. 

“Hyung? Hyung, it’s Bambam.” He curled his hand gently around Jaebeom’s wrist. “Kill me after I finish my video project, okay?” 

Jaebeom blinked, realizing who he was choking and he slowly released his hand, rubbing his face with the other one. “No one comes in here.” 

“I was just looking for somewhere quiet. I can leave, though.” 

He held his palm out and then motioned for Bambam to follow him. “It’s fine,” he said groggily. 

Bambam picked up his laptop and stayed behind Jaebeom as he led them to the far corner. There was hardly any real furniture in here, just wide open space and a couple side tables and folding chairs. In this corner was only a large bean bag chair, sunken and slumped against the wall. Jaebeom sat on the floor, fluffing and adjusting the bean bag chair behind his back so he was comfortably supported. He stretched his legs out and open, rapping his knuckles on the wood between them. 

Bambam was highly confused, but he shrugged and joined him on the floor, let him pull and arrange him until he laid against his chest. 

“Should be silent now.” 

“Oh, thanks hyung.” He unfolded his laptop, turning down the brightness and volume. As he was sorting through some of the clips on his memory card, Jaebeom’s arms circled his waist and he hooked his chin over his shoulder. The firecats flopped to the floor, rolling and glancing every now and then, but ultimately pretended to nap. 

It really was silent, the only sounds coming from his laptop and Jaebeom’s breathing, the soft whistle of the breeze ruffling firefur. He concentrated on the layout of his clips while listening to the instrumental he was using as a base on repeat. The assignment was to create a three-minute long video with various clips and captures, using whatever stylistic effects he wanted, set to a song without lyrics. The point was to still get the beat and message across, giving the audience an emotion to focus on without the words that specifically told them how to feel about it. 

He ignored clips he knew had Youngjae in them, opting for candids of Yugyeom and other shopping adventures he had gone on with Jackson and Jinyoung. He had drone shots of campus and the coven’s field, with one having the roof of the car as it drove away. He was trying to make something that screamed vacation, that made people long to get out of their heads and out of familiar spaces. Travel without travelling; exploring a new side of town and laughing without lying. 

He sought momentary peace for himself and his friends, and he hoped others would relate. 

“You’ve been working on the same spot for an hour now.” 

“It won’t cut right.” 

“Maybe because your head isn’t right,” Jaebeom teased, poking his temple. 

“Yours isn’t either,” Bambam sighed, clapping his laptop closed and sliding it onto the floor. He wished he could keep a joke going, but his mouth had betrayed him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he winced as he felt Jaebeom pull away, but he kept his hands on his waist. 

“This entire house isn’t right.” 

Bambam turned onto his knees to face Jaebeom, keeping his hands on his thighs. “You could just burn it down. Everyone dies in the flames together? Probably the happiest ending this hell has.” He wasn’t even being sarcastic, but the corner of Jaebeom’s mouth lifted. 

“If Jinyoungie agrees, I’ll do it. Let you finally die in peace without having to die again.” 

“My hero,” Bambam rolled his eyes.

“You do worship me.” 

Bambam choked on dust, hanging his head and coughing while Jaebeom chuckled, happy from his suffering. He washed it down with a good dose of water, and still returned to Jaebeom’s lap. Instead of leaning on his chest, he leaned his back against the adjacent wall and rested his legs over Jaebeom’s thighs. “What is this room, anyway? Is it special?” 

“An old sacrifice room.” 

“Ha, ha, hyung,” he said, tapping his forearm for a real answer. 

“It’s a dead spot. Like with cell phone networks, there are places you don’t get service? This room can’t hold energy. Simple things like silence or sleep spells it’s okay with, but anything else it neutralizes. There is nothing in here to help amplify or aid our magic.” 

“So it’s just a chill spot.” 

“Jinyoung wanted a reading room before, so Mark hyung gave him a test. He had to leave this room at least three times a day, and not argue about finishing his page or chapter before chasing a phone call.” 

“He failed, obviously.” There was not one bookshelf in this room. 

“First day. There wasn’t a job, but he only ate once and that was because Jackson brought it to him. And now the books are in the basement so he’ll come up for sunlight once in awhile.” 

“So you just sleep in here?” Bambam rolled Jaebeom’s arm over to play with the bracelets on his wrist. A couple of them had charms that hung down, while the others had braided ties attached to different crystal cabochons. 

“There was a time when all I had was a floor to sleep on. It’s a toxic nostalgia, but I can clear my head sometimes.”

“Oh.” Bambam knew in loose terms the tragedies Jaebeom had been through, but he didn’t ever think of the small details, or what had come before the fall of the realm. There was an entire timeline he probably couldn’t ever learn about, He felt like Jaebeom told him something vulnerable, so he gave one, too. “I curl up in the bathtub. It was a point of safety. After the Fae ate my mind, I climb into the tub and remind myself that I was saved there. The cold porcelain shocks my panic so I can process reality. The tub is like my cage, but I have the key.”

Nora re-absorbed Kunta and Odd, returning to her bigger form, stretching and yawning with her flames and she pawed out of the room.

“What about Jackson?”

Bambam shook his head. “If magic could actually work on the deep rooted fears, you guys wouldn’t have nightmares, either. If he’s home, he can sometimes take my panic, but he can’t take away the cause. I don’t think magic can erase memories.” Or at least keep them erased for long. The body and the soul would fear something similar, or live through it again and call back the echo until it crashed back into him like a train falling off the tracks onto the highway. Everytime he thought about trying to erase what happened, he shivered and felt too congested to ever ask.

“If I could, would I still be your hero?”

Bambam blinked, keeping his eyes wide when he had to really think about what Jaebeom just said. He was caught off-guard, the older taking advantage and pulling him close again, until his legs straddled his lap. His hands fell onto Jaebeom’s shoulders. “Heroes aren’t that cheap; they only take an easy route after a divine intervention.” He smirked and poked at Jaebeom’s cheeks. “And if you’re the hero, you aren’t the divine intervention,” he sing-songed the end.

Jaebeom grabbed his hand with force. “Would you want to forget?”

The things that happened to him built his trust with the coven, and his faith in his friends. He was terrified of the monsters they attracted, and worried Youngjae wouldn’t ever be the same, but he wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t want to forget what always made him stay. “Never. I trust you guys because of the shit I’ve come back from, hyung. And you took that arrow for me before because you knew I wouldn’t have come back from it. I can’t forget that.”

Jaebeom’s brown eyes softened, but held onto the gravity of their conversation. “If you trust me, does that mean I can ask you something and you’ll do it?”

“Ask me to do chores, I probably won’t. Ask me to jump off a cliff, absolute to the fuck yes.”

He smirked and guided Bambam in for a kiss, nipping at his jaw before pulling away. “Then we’re jumping off a cliff.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also yes I changed Jaebum to Jaebeom in this. I have to respect what the leader wants even if I do not agree with his decision like yoU COULDNT HAVE SAID IT FIVE YEARS AGO ITS ON ALL YOUR MERCH OKAy . but anYWay he is jaebeom and has wanted to be jaebeom so he gets to be jaebeom. just the tags are jaebum as they havent had enough ppl using im jaebeom to create a relevant tag. 
> 
> anYWYA the jaebams is all my fault. i love them and there is not enough of them but i guess there isnt enough yugbeom too so like i'm trying to feed myself and my nation as we go through this middle part of the story. not sorry. 
> 
> I know this is a short first update but i promise some of the chapters bt now and the end are REAL LONG so like it'll all balance out just hold your breath or whatever until then. Thanks as always and again for reading or even skimming and you'll see more next weekend! Reach me on [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	2. Scene II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating change and tag updates uwu 
> 
> also forgot but through this book, as with the first, * indicates the same day/small passage of time even within the same or changed pov, and ~*~ indicates a more significant amount of time (day, days, week, etc) has passed

Yugyeom didn’t want to make it seem like he was testing anyone, but he was going to need to arm himself with extra protection. Since his connection with the geode was only an empathic one, it was useless if either him or Bambam got attacked again. The coven wouldn’t always be in a place to rescue them, so he went to the only witch who was likely to have something. But he just happened to be with Jinyoung, and Yugyeom was sure the older would absolutely object. 

 

He’d attempt it anyway, hoping there was a pleading glaze over his eyes. “Hey, Jackson hyung?” 

 

The blonde looked up from his cards on the floor, while Jinyoung settled his hands firmly on his hips, expression unreadable. “Gyeomie, what’s up?” As Jackson stood up, he wiped the dust from his pants and straightened his posture. 

 

“Your runes. They heal things, right? Or protect them?” 

 

“Most of the time, but they’re complex creatures. Especially right now, they’ll be a little unpredictable.” 

 

“If you ask for something stupid, you’re sleeping outside,” Jinyoung warned, but Jackson hit his shoulder.    
  


Yugyeom  _ was  _ going to ask for something stupid, so he danced around his main question so Jinyoung might forget about temporarily hating his ignorance when it came how magic actually worked. “We just don’t know what’s gonna come after us. And there have been times in the past where we didn’t have you to fall back on.”

 

Jackson sighed, calling the cards into the palm of his hand and when he had the complete stack, slipped them into his pocket. “I might be able to make you some kind of totem. To either ward off dark creatures, or keep your hearts beating until we  _ can  _ reach you.” 

  
It wasn’t strong enough. He wanted something that would give him the ability of force, to throw his aura up and burn the black magic up like a body being cremated. He had to hold something that would save Bambam’s spirit, and his own when tragedy struck. And most of all, he had  _ been  _ ready to step away from the books and begin understanding what wielding magic was like in practice. 

 

“I know your runes are stronger than the totems, hyung.” Yugyeom pointed to his wrist and hands, and gestured to his general presence. “And all your rune tattoos are more stable than your tiles.” 

 

“Abso _ lutely  _ not,” Jinyoung said. “There’s no way. Magic tattoos won’t make you a witch. You can’t wield it.” 

 

“I’m not looking to be a witch,” Yugyeom narrowed his eyes at Jinyoung. “I’m looking to keep Bam and I safe.” 

 

Jackson stepped forward in-between them, motioning for Jinyoung to not interrupt. “Runes  _ are  _ the one thing humans have been able to wield, but only for a general sense of the future. What I have is connected to the finite threads of multiple universes. It’s raw and overwhelming, but that’s how I control it. As tattoos, the characters are interwoven with each other and sink into my own overwhelming energy, and feel as if they’re back in the universe. I’ve lived with them for  _ centuries _ , so their natures became part of my behaviors. It’s as if I was always born with them.” 

 

Jinyoung simply inhaled and Jackson whispered his name in case he tried to speak again. “So, if I tattooed you, it wouldn’t be your energy to call at will. It could also eat away your essence which defeats the purpose of a protecting spell.” 

 

“Maybe we should risk it,” Jinyoung smirked, yelling around Jackson’s complaints and hand trying to cover his mouth. “It’s what he deserves!” 

 

Yugyeom had too much to do before letting  _ magic  _ eat him from the inside. If Bambam had stayed alive so far, he wouldn’t let a  _ rune  _ take him down. He had to be as strong, if not stronger than his friend. 

 

“Look at him smile, Jinyoungie. Look what you  _ did. _ ” 

 

“Is there a way to reduce the risk, just a little?” 

 

Jackson was still playfully hitting Jinyoung until he was pushed into the corner, too amused to return to the middle of the room after Jackson left him alone. “All of my runes are customized, so I’ll have to dig up the simplified versions.” 

 

Jinyoung finally collected himself, fixing and smoothing his shirt. “And it will still be infused with Seunie’s magic.  _ If  _ it works, it will only protect under conditions he’s used to.” 

 

“If it works? So, even if the rune  _ doesn’t  _ eat me alive--” 

 

“It might resonate with you to keep my energy, or be neutralized completely. And you’ll just have a regular temporary tattoo. Without magic, it’ll fade like henna ink.” 

 

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. He didn’t think he’d have to jump through so many hoops, but a power like that truly wasn’t meant for just anyone. It was like a series of trials for himself, to prove he could be worthy to a world he wasn’t supposed to belong in. 

 

“And even then, I can’t make it stay forever. Magic or not, it’s going to be limited.” 

 

Jinyoung’s smirk grew, closing the distance so he could thread his fingers in Yugyeom’s hair and pull him down to meet his gaze. “And it’s going to fucking hurt,” he whispered with glee. “I’ll record every bit of your suffering.” 

 

Yugyeom didn’t let it intimidate him. He wasn’t going to run away from this, no matter the risks involved or the pain he’d suffer. So far, he had been the only one far enough away from the battlefield to not have a scar. He could finally be more than just  _ moral  _ support. So he matched Jinyoung’s grin and pulled his hand out of his hair, grasping it as tightly as he could. 

 

“Can’t wait to see how I survive.” 

 

“ _ If  _ you survive,” Jinyoung reminded. 

 

“I’ll live just to spite you,” Yugyeom finished. 

 

Jackson tiptoed around them. “I’ll just go find the book,” he said quietly. “Either tonight or tomorrow, we can try it.” 

 

“Tonight,” Jinyoung and Yugyeom demanded in unison, glaring at each other. 

 

Jackson left, and Yugyeom held his own against the older witch, living with his false confidence long enough that he began to believe everything would be fine. 

  
  


*

  
  


Bambam had a lot of hopes and expectations as to what Jaebeom meant, but leading them upstairs into his study was not even close to being on the list. He entertained the idea of being pushed against a wall, or dragged into a bed, or even  _ literally  _ jumping off a cliff. But instead, he met a large room, furnished with a wide oak desk, decorated on top with a lamp, laptop, and stacks of books and newspaper clippings. The wall behind it was nearly all windows, while the others had various papers and headlines tacked up with color coded threads. 

 

It seemed chaotic and disorganized, but it was comfortable. 

 

Jaebeom sat down in the office chair and opened his laptop, rearranging some of the papers so he had more space to work with. He called Bambam over from examining the scribbled notes on what looked like a conspiracy wall, 

 

Bambam didn’t know what he was in for, but he crouched down beside Jaebeom, using the table’s ledge to balance himself. 

 

“You’re the only one not upset with me right now.”  

 

“That’s subject to change,” Bambam said. 

 

He seemed to endlessly double click folder after folder, stuck in terrifying concentration. “You would have already left by now.” 

 

He also wondered why he hadn’t left. He at least wanted to be prepared as to where this was all going. “So, what cliff am I jumping off?” 

 

“Oh, you’re not,” Jaebeom squinted and leaned closer to the screen. “I’ve already jumped off. I just tied you to the end of the rope.” 

 

And the rope would either make or break Jaebeom’s fall. Bambam dramatically groaned, dropping to sit on the floor. Jaebeom knew his weakness was attention and used it perfectly against him to be his savior or his doom. At this point, he considered finding what his past lives were like so he understood why he was always dragged into danger. 

 

“I haven’t shown this to anyone, but I didn’t think it meant anything.” 

 

“ _ That’s  _ not cryptic.” Bambam rolled his eyes, picking at the lint clinging to his pants. 

 

“Something similar happened in your video clips.” 

 

Bambam glanced up and found the motivation to stare at the screen again. Jaebeom collected a series of clips and still photos, opening them in the movie player and speeding it up to mimic a time lapse. “Is that the house?” He watched as it went through several sunrises and sunsets, some snow and rain, but the focus was how the fog cover dramatically shifted three different times. 

 

It started normal, from when they first moved into the house. It was light, but still noticeable. After a couple more clips, the fog had begun to dissipate and lift, with patches being completely clear. And then it returned, stronger than the beginning before clearing at an impressive pace, and it looped over. 

 

“It starts when you moved in,” he deeply sighed and nervously ran his hands through his hair, “and ends a little after Youngjae left.” 

 

“So?” 

 

“It goes away after you settled in, but it was set to hold for at least half a century. The protection barrier’s remaining life span was cut in  _ half _ .” Jaebeom waited for the middle, when the fog thickened. “This is when Jackson restructured it, but not even a few weeks pass before it disappears again.” He paused it before the loop repeated. “It’s been fine since Youngjae left.” 

 

“If you knew, why did you argue with everyone?” It crushed any doubt Bambam had about Youngjae. Whether he meant to or not, the magic hiding in his soul still had an effect on their lives and protection. 

 

“Because I thought maybe it was just my camera or something. But some of your clips had the same changes.” His voice was breaking and lowering, holding his own hair so tightly that Bambam worried he’d just end up ripping the strands from his scalp. “I don’t know what to do.” 

 

“Hyung, you’re fucking dumb.” Bambam stood up, putting one hand on his hip and the other to turn Jaebeom toward him instead of directing his internal confusion at the poor laptop and his hair. “Just apologize. Apologize, have Jackson hyung fix the barrier again, and solve your shit  _ together _ . They’re a  _ mess  _ right now, and so are you.” He carefully laid his hands over Jaebeom’s to get him to let his hair go. As he continued, Jaebeom clasped their hands together and led Bambam to sit facing him in his lap. “Learn from the past, hyung. We all want Youngjae hyung to be okay and  _ not  _ send monsters after us, but you have to be the coven you were when we first met you.” 

 

“I should have never banished that pizza box shadow.” He mumbled into Bambam’s chest. 

 

Bambam held him gently, surrounding him in comfort and reassurance. “You don’t have to tell them about the fog, but apologize. Let them know you trust them.” 

 

Jaebeom hugged his waist tighter, and the room fell into heavy silence. 

  
  


*

  
  


Yugyeom forgot he ever had a physical form. The process of having the rune tattooed on his skin was long and excruciating to the point that he had lost his voice from screaming. A fever flared up in his veins and he couldn’t stay still, no matter how many times Jackson tried to force him to. The dim lights on the ceiling filtered white and he was thrown in and out of awareness with resounding crashes not unlike a piano falling from a ten-story building and landing right onto his ribcage. All the outside noises swam through his ear drums like peanut butter in a bucket of hair gel, and he kind of wished he was allowed to die. 

 

Jackson’s chants were addictive and calming. and even if the sounds weren’t clear, they still seemed to crawl and swirl under his skin, collecting the fever and lifting it out his chest. Little by little, his screams turned to mindless pleas. He could see the ceiling lights exchanged for soft, flickering candles. 

 

He even thought he heard Bambam rambling anything and everything he could think of to pull him into reality. But more time blurred together, and he reminded himself to stop being a useless, half-dead  _ thing  _ worth disposing of, and he finally woke up in the middle of a dark room with a pounding headache. 

 

Moonlight leaked through the edges of the curtains, coloring the walls with a pale glow. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he carefully sat up, muscles stiff and angry. But he could breathe and move and see and hear, and that was more than he expected. He stood up, not caring they had left him shirtless, and a little crookedly, he left his bedroom. He used the wall as leverage to stay upright, entering the living room at last. 

 

Jackson and Bambam helped him sit in the loveseat. Mark passed through, dropping his one-line commentary as always, before disappearing. “Hope you researched this bullshit.” He sipped from his mug and went into his bedroom. 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t read any of the rune books, all in languages he was pretty sure only Jackson could read and translate. So no, he didn’t research and he knew that was the worst part, but he hoped what Jackson and Jinyoung had told him would be enough. Or that they’d be kind enough to mentor him if the magic stayed connected to the ink. 

 

“I’ll make a tea for your headache,” Jackson said after feeling Yugyeom’s forehead. “It should soothe your muscles, too.” 

 

“Thanks.” Yugyeom winced at his voice. It sounded dry and cracked and rough, as if he lived an entire lifetime as a smoker who went to live concerts to scream and yell every single night while being stuck with a permanent cold virus. 

 

Bambam hugged him against his chest until it was harder for him to breathe. “My  _ friend _ ! My tall,  _ dumb _ friend!” 

 

Yugyeom tapped his hip. 

 

“I never thought you’d catch the No Communication virus,” he sarcastically laughed, “but there you were, dying on the floor for the sake of a  _ tattoo _ without me knowing.” He roughly pulled Yugyeom’s head away to squish his cheeks up near his eyes instead. “Do we promise to communicate with each other?” Bambam nodded both their heads at the same time, and while mocking Yugyeom’s voice said, “Yes, Bammie, I promise. I won’t purposely seek death without telling you.” He returned to his normal voice and pet Yugyeom’s hair. “Good, I forgive your dumb ass.” 

 

Jinyoung was having the time of his life, laughing and nearly falling off the couch at their exchange. Yugyeom wanted to avenge himself, embarrass Bambam in return, but unfortunately, he had a fair point. Yugyeom hadn’t bothered to find Bambam before going into the “operating room” even though he knew he was risking his life. Neither of his friends had purposely run into danger, and he thought he had worked past being so reckless, too. And Bambam was upset, reliving everything he had gone through from an outside perspective and probably asking himself why the fuck anyone would willingly suffer at the hands of magic. 

 

Yugyeom pouted and soothed Bambam’s back, leaning his temple against his side for one more hug. “Sorry, Bammie.” 

 

“Just drink your tea, Gyeom.” Bambam pat his shoulder, stepping out of the way so Jackson could hand over the mug. To all their surprise, Bambam calmly walked into the left hall, sighing deeply and calling for Nora. 

 

“He never goes down there alone,” Jackson exposed their thoughts. 

 

Yugyeom sipped his tea and gagged at the immediate bitterness and spice. It broke the mood again, and Jinyoung was back to laughing at his pain. “More laughing like that and I’d say you’re nervous I survived, hyung.” He tried to drink his tea faster just so he didn’t have to keep tasting it. 

 

Jackson loudly yelled, “Ha,” and aimed to return to his bedroom. “Human Survives Rune: Dies by Choking. Great headline,” he giggled, patting Yugyeom’s shoulder and wiping a fake tear away before also disappearing into Mark’s bedroom. 

 

Yugyeom rolled his head at his dramatic words. He assumed it would take some time until they knew for sure if the magic was willing to wrap itself around him temporarily, or if it neutralized, so he let Jackson go without complaint. Jinyoung had stopped laughing, but the smirk pulled at his lips and eyes. It was a little devious, and if Yugyeom had been in better shape, he probably would have just gone back to bed, too. 

 

“You know,” he began, sliding to the cushion closest to Yugyeom and delicately crossed one leg over the other, “for such big talk, your performance was weak.” 

 

“So what? I lived, bitch.” 

 

Jinyoung quirked an eyebrow just as Yugyeom realized what he said. He cautiously finished his bitter, spicy medicine and set the cup on the side table. He pretended he said nothing wrong while he felt his cheeks heat from the mistake. He purposely focused on the lines of the wood flooring while the corner of his eye caught onto Jinyoung’s slow, decisive movements as he joined him on the loveseat. 

 

“Oh, Gyeom-ah,” he drawled with faux fondness, digging his fingers into Yugyeom’s hair and lightly scratching his scalp. “Yugyeom, I won’t kill you yet, but I can’t let you get away with calling me  _ bitch _ . See the dilemma?” 

 

Yugyeom felt this was somehow worse than the early days when he disrespected Jaebeom. He hated that Jinyoung’s fingers in his hair felt amazing, and that the proximity and tone of his voice alone made it harder to control the color rushing to his cheeks. He wanted to lie to himself and say it was out of frustration or irritation, but Jinyoung made their eyes meet, and he almost combusted on the spot. “I’ll just write a note about your innocence so they won’t hate you, and then you kill me. No dilemma.” 

 

Jinyoung tsked and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Now, death would be your easy way out.” He untangled his fingers and snaked his arm around Yugyeom’s bare shoulders, which he was  _ incredibly  _ aware of now that there was fabric brushing against it. “You know I prefer tormenting you, right?” 

 

Regardless of the tea, Yugyeom’s muscles were still a little sore and he could feel the phantom of a headache, and his side itched and bruised where the tattoo was healing. “I’m already being tormented,” he tried to reason. 

 

Jinyoung twisted and whispered against his ear. “Not for calling me bitch.” 

 

Yugyeom opened his mouth to explain it was just a phrase he learned on the internet, that it didn’t mean anything, but Jinyoung was already kissing his neck, so his attempted words fell out as a breathy moan. Jinyoung smiled as Yugyeom gripped onto the arm of the loveseat, licking up his jaw to bite his ear and suck over his piercing. 

 

Yugyeom tried to grip onto his hip, but Jinyoung tore it away, purring low and grinding down. “No touching.” 

 

“Should you be doing this in the living room,” Yugyeom forced out around his heavy breaths and whines. 

 

Jinyoung’s hands danced over his chest and teased his nipples. “I won’t be doing  _ anything _ ,” he whispered against Yugyeom’s lips. But he didn’t kiss him, and as much as Yugyeom wanted to, he figured he wasn’t allowed to do that, either. 

 

Jinyoung worked him up and his dick was hardening under his weight and movement, with the hot breath on his skin and his fingers worshiping his smooth chest. One gripped his shoulder again, and he grinned, trailing the other hand down his side. Jinyoung leaned back and lightly pressed his fingers into the sensitive, newly inked skin. 

 

It sent a hot shiver through his body, the deep ache reaching from his head to his toes. The feeling was too overwhelming and Yugyeom didn’t know which way to curl up and he was even more confused as to why he moaned into it. And then Jinyoung was climbing off, his face quickly falling into a clearly fake and dramatic concern. He gently held Yugyeom’s chin with one hand, turning it to the left and right and then glancing down at the obvious bulge in his pants. “I was just checking the healing progress of your tattoo. What’s there to get hot and bothered about, Gyeomie?” His gaze was playful and taunting. 

 

He knew  _ exactly  _ what he was doing while doling this punishment out. Yugyeom huffed and whined, sounding painfully desperate even with the irritation building. 

 

But Jinyoung leaned forward, flicking Yugyeom’s earring with joy. He pressed the tattoo one more time, lips close enough to touch so he could swallow his gasp. He kissed Yugyeom a little longer, cradling his face to deepen it, and when he stopped, Yugyeom watched his eyes ease into pure fondness, not a trace of mirth left. “When you’re done, I’ll be in the room.” 

 

Yugyeom almost asked for more, for him to stay or for them to continue what they started  _ in  _ the bedroom. He’d let Jinyoung do whatever he wanted, but he finally realized it wasn’t just about the accidental bitch dropping out of his mouth. Like Bambam, maybe he had just been upset at his stupidity, too. Jinyoung let the tattoo happen, but not entirely unconcerned. And given the ways witches had vented, foreplay that didn’t lead to sex was pretty safe and tame torment. 

 

When he was gone, Yugyeom slid onto his feet and locked himself in the bathroom. As he rubbed over his half-hard dick, un-rushed with pressure over pace, he examined his tattoo in the mirror. It was the first time he had seen what it looked like because the design in the book had faded somewhat, and ink on paper looked different than ink on skin. Jackson insisted on plain black, arguing that color ink would change the properties of the rune. The shape was artistically geometric, focusing on points and petals over diamonds and rectangles. The middle began with two small stars within each other, inside a bigger star that folded open into layers and layers of petals that formed a more structured dandelion. The edges had minimal but intricate shading to give the design more depth. 

 

There was no bleeding or open sores, no flaking and scabbing skin, but it itched like it did. It was easier to ignore that when Jinyoung was distracting him. He finally stripped down, admiring his first tattoo in the mirror, watching his hand edge his dick until his hips were begging for more. His back fell against the wall, chest heaving with want as he thought about Jinyoung breathing against his neck and lips, how sometimes he just wanted to feel his fingers wrap against his neck without an intent to kill. He wanted him to  _ dig  _ into his raw and bruised skin under the ink, and wanted Jinyoung to ride him in the living room, not caring who would join them. 

 

He put his palm against the rune, adding more pressure until he gasped and whimpered, light bursting behind his eyes as the orgasm tore through him. He was left with goosebumps and loose limbs, his muscles feeling stretched but even more upset than when he first woke up. He sighed and found his rhythm again, opting for a quick rinse off shower instead of just wiping everything off. 

 

He threw his clothes into the hamper, keeping the towel over his hair as he pattered into an open room for fresh clothes. He found shorts and a tank top with the sleeves cut so far down he wasn’t even sure if it was worth calling a shirt, but he tossed it over his head anyway. He abandoned the towel, figuring his hair had dried enough to not soak through the pillow. 

 

He climbed into the master bed where Jinyoung was laying alone. He gestured for Yugyeom to come closer. They tiredly stared at each other in the darkness, and the moonlight slowly lifting into pre-dawn lilac. Yugyeom didn’t know if it was the fault of his geode or simply being around Jinyoung long enough, but somehow, they didn’t need words. Everytime Jinyoung opened his mouth, Yugyeom still took some of them at face value, but he was seeing through them. Like earlier, he figured Jinyoung was relieved he survived something so reckless. And now he was exhausted, before their real battle had even begun. He was used to a full bed and warmth surrounding him, and right now, it was just Yugyeom. 

 

No matter what happened, they’d have to stay together. The other side of their banter would always be balanced with moments like this. 

 

Jinyoung gently kissed him, and it plunged deep into his chest with both sorrow and hope. He kissed back forgiveness and doubled the hope. Jinyoung sighed gratefully and curled up until his forehead rested against his shoulder, their hands loosely entwined in the space still between them. 

 

They fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

 

*

 

Yugyeom woke up on his stomach, a white blanket barely draped over his hips and legs. He glanced around to see the minimal luxury decor,  purple curtains tied to the bedposts and covering the windows. There was some dust collected atop the wood dresser and tables, and he had the sense to run, only wondering if he was too late. The tile and stone froze and cracked as he rushed forward, navigating the corridor as if he had a map stamped to the corner of his mind. 

 

There were guards scattered on the floor of the halls and Yugyeom prayed they weren’t actually dead. He didn’t see any blood, but he saw a similar royal crest embroidered on their clothes and he knew by now magic didn’t have to draw any blood to murder. At the end of it, he entered what seemed to be the throne room. The path led to an elegant stairway, but the rich carpet was far from pure and perfect. It was melting like plastic against the narrow stairs, and he avoided it for the sake of his bare feet. 

 

He couldn’t help but pause to glance at the throne, a chair of uncomfortable grandeur. There wasn’t any support, no cushion to make the time sitting on it any easier. The seat was flat and solid, made of black wood and twisted metals, dark and dull instead of bright and silver. He continued onward before it called for him to sit and be swallowed by the corrupted energy radiating from it. He turned down a couple more corridors and met another towering wall, but somehow, he could tell it was fake. He counted to three and slipped right through into a wide, open white space. 

 

Along the edges he saw all types of flora, noting the low, soft leaves of mint and hydrangeas colored various shades of purple and blue. A sleek round table had been knocked over with its matching chair, and beyond it, in the middle of the space, he saw the coven, and a face too similar to Youngjae’s. He didn’t think he was too late. 

 

But the coven wore their robes and royal cords, Jinyoung without his crown and his own colors. It was similar to Jaebeom’s colors, and had been made too wide in the shoulders to belong to Jinyoung at all. And Mark had more than just a sash, wearing a robe of the same murky blue with duller silver accenting. They all commanded attention, and Yugyeom felt severely underdressed for this meeting, wearing the tank top and shorts he had worn before bed. 

 

Especially when the young man who looked like Youngjae was dressed in rich purples and pale yellows, a gold earring hanging from his lobe and rings adorning his fingers. He held a smooth, wooden staff taller than himself. The setting on top was shaped and painted like a blooming lotus flower, holding a generously sized jade. 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t get close enough to touch anyone, but he could hear the conversations, distorted as if he was only an inch underwater. They pleaded for him to listen, to stay and trust them like he used to. Jackson said they couldn’t do anything to prove their innocence, but they could prove the council’s manipulation, how they always meant to control the magic he held to keep the regime of dark magic and fear alive. Mark reminded him that if he wanted him dead, he had a million opportunities as a servant to have made it happen. Jinyoung’s voice broke when he said that even after being disowned and tortured, he would never want to undermine him. Jinyoung could  _ forgive  _ him. 

 

Jaebeom cautiously reached forward without ever touching the king. He said they were both individually whole, but without him, if he took the king’s magic for himself, he’d be torn apart. He never needed their magic to be in one body; they were only ever meant to be on the same side. 

 

The king calmly listened, opening a floating bird cage with one hand, and whistling until the bird hopped and perched on his fingers. The king smirked at the coven, but his gaze was apathetic and lifeless. As he whispered a chant to the bird, Yugyeom saw the mole just under his right eye. The bird became only feathers, and the king said they wouldn’t ever be on the same side. He’d claim the magic within them for his own, just as they’d do to him. He commended them on their acting and their lies, spinning the staff upside down and smashing the jade into the ground. 

 

The coven screamed and yelled as they watched the king fall into the new void, closing before they ever had a chance to grab his hand. A few inches of the staff stuck out from the solid ground, but no amount of pulling or spell-casting brought it back, or reopened the portal. The garden immediately darkened, an earthquake swallowing pieces of the ground and killing the plants within. 

 

Yugyeom’s vision went black, and he couldn’t even follow the coven’s voices because he was drowning in absolute betrayal and despair, rooting in guilt and anger instead of grief and sadness. It was a hurt that did not fully belong to him, filling his heart until he could barely breathe. The space only lit up with a horrendous, beastly scream and when he was suddenly too close to the raging flames, Yugyeom yelled underneath it all to escape this nightmare of a reality. 

*

  
  


Yugyeom knew it was a nightmare, still yelling when his eyes saw the familiar ceiling and clung to the familiar bedding, but he had  _ lived  _ it. Since his dream about Jaebeom’s ring, he labelled this another empathetic memory, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. It made it  _ worse _ . 

 

Because that was the coven, and that was  _ Youngjae _ . Even if his skin tone was a bit darker, eyes slightly smaller, hair longer, the stature was his. The mole was his. The voice was his. 

 

And suddenly he flashed back to when they found the clothes. When he found Jaebeom’s ring, and Youngjae’s curiosity while holding the other one. 

 

_ “Are they a set? Does this have lotus flowers inside? They’re so tiny!”  _

 

Jinyoung was always saying the collapse of  _ both  _ realms would be unfathomably worse than what they had already survived. And mentally, Yugyeom couldn’t handle that alone now that he tasted what the collapse was like. It wasn’t even the aftermath, but just the mere seconds after the king left the realm, and Yugyeom wasn’t going to ask about the destruction that happened next. 

 

He pulled himself together enough to run out of the bedroom, apologetic for his questions and demanding answers so insensitively. He didn’t regret asking for the rune tattoo, but he understood his ignorance a lot more. He still wanted to be as useful as possible in their war, but magic was fickle and pure, only taking one drop of negativity and poison to change it completely. And he hated to wonder what they’d face if the memories of Youngjae’s soul ever fully came back. If they had already returned. 

 

Yugyeom found Mark in the kitchen, cooking ramen for lunch and as he turned from the stove, Yugyeom draped himself over his shorter frame. “I’m already making ramen for everyone. What do you want?” He pat Yugyeom’s back, anyway. 

 

“Thank you,” Yugyeom’s voice cracked. 

 

“Sure? What’s up--” 

 

“Leave the dishes. I’ll clean them, hyung.” Yugyeom unfolded himself and Mark looked at him with confusion and concern, but nodded and slowly went back to watching the stove. Yugyeom continued into the dining area and Jackson had just walked out of the left hall. 

 

“Hey, Gyeom! How’s the tattoo?” He finished wiping his hands on a towel, ash and magic dust clinging to his fingers. 

 

Yugyeom pulled him in and squeezed his arms around Jackson’s shoulders. “I wasn’t really taking magic seriously before, hyung, and I’m sorry.” 

 

“If you didn’t take it seriously, we wouldn’t have given you a rune. Big dummy,” Jackson fondly teased. 

 

But Yugyeom was on the brink of tears, so he didn’t laugh. He held Jackson even tighter. “I promise to respect and trust everything you teach me about caring for it.” 

 

Jackson lightly chuckled. “We’ll know in the next couple days if I have anything to teach you.” 

 

Yugyeom wanted him to teach him, regardless. If he could understand the rawness of runes, he’d have a firmer grasp on how to reverse the corruption of Youngjae’s magic. If it was even possible. For now, he kissed the top of Jackson’s head and weaved into the living room where Bambam was blankly watching the television while snacking. 

 

Yugyeom didn’t know what it was like to have a darkness take over his mind, and he had rarely ever been a victim of a magical attack, but the rune and the memories he dreamed gave him even more sympathy for what Bambam had gone through. For several hours, Bambam’s mind had not been his own and his actions were controlled; he was merely a puppet for some of the lurking monsters. His heart and blood had been poisoned multiple times, and Yugyeom knew Bambam was stronger than he was. 

 

And they had both temporarily lost a friend. Now they had to watch him hate them and wage war against them until the end of time. 

 

Bambam had stopped snacking, setting his bag of chips on the coffee table when he saw Yugyeom. “You’ve been in your head for like, fifteen minutes. I told you I forgive you. I’m not mad at you, dude.” 

 

Yugyeom went over to the couch, and instead of crushing him into his chest like he had planned, he ended up burying his face in Bambam’s chest, finally reaching the breaking point. He couldn’t explain anything around his tears, but Bambam didn’t ask for one. He pushed his hands soothingly through Yugyeom’s hair, giving him time to let go and sort himself. It was probably another half hour before Yugyeom was only sniffling when he showed his face again, and Bambam wiped his face with his sleeves. 

 

“We’re okay,” he repeated. “I swear.” 

 

Yugyeom didn’t believe it, but he’d have to learn to take this thing step by step, moment by moment so they could find a time to be okay. He stayed squished against Bambam, finding something more interesting to watch. Jinyoung came up from the library and joined them, and without any banter or debate, he held Jinyoung close. One day, he’d be able to wear his own colors again, to wear the crown without guilt and memories of the past. Yugyeom wanted to restore his name, because his heart was meant to lead and solve and he still did his part to keep their small, unbalanced team together. It wasn’t the name that made him royal, but his actions. Yugyeom would find a way to right the wrong done to him. 

 

Yugyeom eventually recovered, letting Jinyoung go when he pleaded for a bathroom break. He had to help Jackson with something, and Bambam pulled Mark aside which was new. Yugyeom was stable enough to let them disperse, but he was still fragile on the big couch without anyone else. He had curled up in the loveseat, mindlessly playing matching games on his phone to stay distracted. It really didn’t work, thoughts flashing to the king’s mole and the bird bursting to feathers, the handle of the staff planted into the ground before the flames scorched the garden into nothing. 

 

His mind couldn’t shut up about solutions. 

 

Jaebeom came down from his study, tiredly sighing as he sat on the couch. It was silent, and Yugyeom kept glancing over from his phone. He knew the despair had belonged to all of them, to a degree, but where it fed into rage and self-blame, he thought of Jaebeom. He had seen glimpses of his anger to know how it vibrated through everyone, and their spaces.

 

Yugyeom didn’t want to see how he’d react to losing the king twice. To watch him fall in the human realm, never getting another chance to save him. Neither of them would handle that ending well. 

 

Yugyeom nearly cried again, but he muted his feelings into sorrow and optimism, because it wasn’t too late. The war here had just begun, and the coven had somewhat reckless, ignorant, but curious humans on their side. They’d have a victorious plan eventually. 

 

Jaebeom caught his glances and pat his leg. “Just sit over here, you fuckhead. I won’t bite.” 

 

Yugyeom left his phone on the loveseat, laying his head in Jaebeom’s lap and stretching his legs over the cushions. He held Jaebeom’s hand, noticing he wore his jade ring. Yugyeom kissed the palm of his hand and reached up to cradle his cheek. Jaebeom looked as much of a wreck as Yugyeom felt, and neither of them broke eye contact. 

 

Yugyeom wanted to say anything and everything, to apologize and pull the tragedies from his chest, but he had nothing. Right now, all he could be was moral support. He gathered all the hope and optimism he had left, pleading with his eyes for Jaebeom to believe him, and not tear his words down. 

 

‘We’ll get him back, hyung.” Yugyeom entwined their hands. “We’ll get him back without a death toll.” 

 

Jaebeom didn’t say anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i saved this as a draft but for some reason it didnt save so this is my second time posting this chapter and i have had a D a y so i'm just short tempered and need positivity lmao 
> 
> but how we feelin [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> also thank you so much for the support and comments on ch1 it really makes us so happy that there are readers for this au like may the memory and studying gods bless u so u get the grades u desire


	3. Scene III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tags just refer to a part that have scum + sewer dog to discriminate and hate so i just wanted to warn in Some Way in case that throws anyone 
> 
> this chapter is overall a heavier like emotional piece tho but i promise theres like a balance and better things will come okay every story has their pain

Jackson wasn’t exactly nervous, but he could feel something pull at the seams of his magic, the wind whistling a mournful melody instead a song that encouraged life to grow and dance with it. In spite of it. So he dragged Mark to nearly every garden center to stock up on general plants, like aloe and lavender, while every cashier questioned their uses. 

 

Whenever they bought a ridiculous amount of ice cream and snacks at the grocery store it was, “Bit of a party this weekend?” Or the classic, “Quite a breakup, huh?” But at a garden center, they got hits like, “Practicing for living in the wild?” And Mark’s favorite, “Starting a garden for your girlfriend?” 

 

It always gave him an excuse to address Jackson with only pet-names and kiss his cheek as he held the plant box so Jackson could pay, explaining they both had a bit of a green thumb. Jackson playfully kicked at his legs and butt, hitting his shoulder as they walked through the sliding doors. 

 

Before unloading the plants by the back garden, Jackson noticed the protective barrier wasn’t as secure as it should have been. The fog always cleared somewhat after some time passed, but just being inside and listening to its presence, the barrier had weakened. 

 

“Hey Mark,” he raised his voice, already walking to find two long sticks that had blown into the front yard. Mark was waiting for him outside the car, meeting him in the middle when he returned.

 

“I noticed, too.” Mark sighed and took the stick offered to him.

 

“I think we have to draw it more precise. If the symbol isn’t  _ perfect  _ against the soil, it won’t lift right.”

 

Mark hung his head and poked the pointed end into the ground. “If it’s not perfect, we’re doing it the other way.”

 

Jackson gasped, actually letting his foot connect with Mark’s ass. “My heart can’t take that!”

 

Mark winked. “The point, Jacks.” 

Jackson shoved him away and swung his stick at his head, but Mark easily dodged, turning the bend into a backflip, landing proudly on his feet with the stick staked into the ground. “Whatever, Mark. No more video games for you.” 

 

“Definitely thought you’d say no dick.” 

 

“I will if we don’t get this done.” That wasn’t true. He just wanted to limit Mark’s video games so he’d have more time to spend cuddling and fucking him. But the more time they spent flirting, the longer the day would be. And at the end of it, he still wanted to have enough energy to not pass out before ever getting kisses. He at least wanted kisses. 

 

Mark sauntered beside him and bumped their hips, pulling his stick out of the ground and touching the point of it to Jackson’s. They exchanged supportive smiles and began drawing around the perimeter in opposite directions. The spell they had to draw was multi-layered like tree rings, but intricate and stylized instead of a solid circular shape. There was no easy way to rush it, and like all other things, hand drawing it with their powers personalized the strength and meaning, asking for the earth they lived on to allow their home to be a safe haven. If Jackson tried to will the symbol over the ground, or stand on the roof and imagine it into existence, the protection spell had a higher chance of being rejected. 

 

It took a good part of the morning to complete, passing each other only where it ended and where they had begun the loop again, sticks sliding and twirling along the field behind their footsteps. The taller wheatgrass leaned and stretched with them, keeping their paths clean and open. From the skies, it probably resembled something of a crop circle, but when the spell was done, the wheatgrass would right itself and the lines in the soil would soak deeper into it, staying intact no matter how it naturally shifted. 

 

After a few times around the wide acreage, the symbol was finally done, digging their sticks into the ground beside each other where the lines first began. Mark stood back, and Jackson placed his palms above the wood, pulsing his intent and motives through them so the soil would hear, and accept, his plea. The nature around them would continue to hold this curtain of refuge, but his rune tattoos barely stung with the warnings of what was to come; what was already happening within the house. 

 

The fog was pure, but thicker, and Mark immediately helped Jackson keep his balance. Jackson clung tightly to both of Mark’s arms, the worry stirring his stomach until he felt his eyes tear up. 

 

“Why? What is it?” 

 

“If we cause an apocalypse,” Jackson’s bottom lip quivered, “what will happen to my  _ plants _ ?” 

 

“Is  _ that  _ what you’re gonna cry about?” Mark’s concern fell into absolute confusion. 

 

“I know Greg is a bit loud, but she’s never bitten anyone! She doesn’t deserve to die like that.” 

 

“I’m pretty sure Greg will be  _ just  _ fine, Jackson.” When Jackson softened his grip, Mark pat his cheek and let it slide to rest against his neck. 

 

“How do you know?” Jackson sniffled and whined. 

 

“Because not even Nature’s Grim Reaper could handle that fucking  _ awful  _ screeching. Her voice will save  _ all  _ your plants.” Mark pinched Jackson’s nose and rubbed the top of his head. “Now, you got, like, a million new plants to take care of, okay?” 

 

Jackson wrapped his arms around the older, needing just a little more strength to overcome his early mourning. “I love you, Mark. I’m glad you haven’t killed Greg. I’ll let you babysit her anytime.” 

 

Mark choked a little. “She likes you more, so I don’t think it’ll happen. But I’ll keep that offer in mind.” He kissed his temple and led them back to the car to unpack their new stock of flora. 

 

It took some additions and rearranging of their garden to get everything planted correctly so that it would grow right, according to the magic Jackson watered them with. When almost everything was in the ground, Mark spent the time harvesting flowers and herbs, carefully cutting leaves and stems and putting it all into a large woven basket. 

 

Jackson led them in for a lunch break, and Mark helped him quietly organize the harvested roots, petals, seeds, and leaves into his hidden stock cupboard. At a later time, he’d press some for oils and dry others for teas, keeping everything else for emergencies and topical treatments.  Jackson felt the tension ease into his muscles, only whispering what the earth had told him. 

 

“Do you need more kisses?” Mark tried to lighten the mood. 

 

Jackson appreciated it, and the tension wasn’t weighing him down yet, so the tactic mostly worked. “Yes, always. You never give me enough. But I also think,” he set the empty basket down on a desk, “I’ll need to make more rune tiles soon. Or stabilize the ones I have.” 

 

Mark’s shoulders dramatically slumped forward. “Do we have to dig?” 

 

“You do know you’re always a volunteer in these endeavors?” 

 

“After a shower, you better let me play a game.”

 

“Mark, I’m literally not even asking if you want to help.” 

 

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” Mark exhaled. 

 

Jackson chuckled at his absurdity, grabbing gloves and shovels so they could dig deep into the field. They’d be scraping up clay well after the moon rose. 

 

*

  
  


Yugyeom didn’t allow himself to live in stasis until they knew the result of his tattoo, so naturally, he ended up in the library. He spent a lot of time roaming the aisles, still unsure of how the coven had organized the genres. There were spines he knew he’d seen before, but the titles weren’t completely unreadable. At least he figured if Jackson’s rune hadn’t lent him any protection, it lent him translation. The grammar of the translations were off and the structure wasn’t anything like Korean, and sometimes it merely narrowed the characters down to their base structure and he wasn’t able to understand it at all. He guessed Jackson had at least ten rune tattoos dedicated to language, or at least for helping his brain keep track of it all. 

 

Even though the translations were more limited than a website’s auto-translate function, he now had a wider array of books and journals to choose from. On a higher shelf, he saw a set of leather bound journals, stained dark red atop its natural rich brown, and they were each tied shut with a pale blue lace. He handled them as if he were a curator with a rare artifact, and he wiggled off his overshirt to place over the tabletop so the journals wouldn’t rest directly on the dusty wood. 

 

The journals weren’t attributed to anyone, not even signed with a family name. He flipped through them just to find any kind of identity, and inside of the word-for-word translation he picked out skirts and makeup, and noticed labels that were traditionally used by females. He wished he had a name for her, but he started from the first journal and hoped he’d discover it. 

 

It took him  _ hours  _ to get through, ditching the idea of having a complete understanding, or even piecing it together from context clues. He had a vocabulary list without any order or conjunctions, and had to narrow down what the most important clue in the list was to determine subject matters. 

 

He stumbled and paused when Jinyoung’s name was on the page. She had said something about him and the future. She seemed close with another young boy, detailing their fates as they seemed to race and crash through royal quarters, much to the guards dismay. She often observed Jinyoung as he lovingly aided the boy in mediations and creation. 

 

She called the boy  _ Ars _ . 

 

There were various record charts like their heights, the climate,  animals, and foods they despised. It was almost innocent and elementary, and the second journal carried through adolescence. It read like she was rebellious and confused, missing her only other royal friends to play with. Jinyoung had grown up and spent his time with books and the law, preparing for his role as archduke. Ars disappeared for great lengths of time, and she was often turned away from entering his quarters. 

 

Her entries grew shorter and weary, becoming a book of daily concerns. And as Yugyeom turned through the last journal, he had seen the rest of the coven’s names, and the very last of Ars. She spoke only of the king, and the council. Her very last writing expressed her demands for answers, pages and pages remaining empty after it. 

 

Yugyeom put his elbows on the table and massaged his temples. He always found a plethora of information that led him into headaches and exhaustion. He was finding the past, but not seeing a way to save the future. 

 

Jinyoung stood on the other side of the table, observing him intently. “You can’t  _ read  _ any of it. No wonder you have a headache.” 

 

He didn’t really understand everything, but he picked out enough. “Who was she? The girl who wrote these.” 

 

Jinyoung draped a jacket over Yugyeom’s shoulders, rubbing his arms and telling him to move into the cozy spot by the fireplace. “She was a distant relative, born of the same name, but she was raised within the castle walls so we were like siblings.” He swung his leg over Yugyeom’s and folded their hands together. “Are you really trying to understand them?” 

 

“Kinda? I’m testing the rune. Haven’t gotten much, yet.” Yugyeom reopened a journal he brought with him, balancing it in his lap and flipping through the pages with one hand. He thought maybe he’d be able to understand the timeline better if he read it over, or maybe he could figure out how the words were grammatically supposed to fit. 

 

Jinyoung fondly sighed. “You’re really trying hard, aren’t you?” 

 

“All it has given me is names and the shocking fact that you had  _ friends _ .” Jinyoung shoved his shoulder, but kept their hands clasped. Yugyeom easily bounced back. “I’m just  _ saying _ that it would have been hard. Royalty and chosen friendships.” 

 

“We did our best to get along, given the limitations.” 

 

Yugyeom tapped the pages, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “There’s a lot of missing pieces, but what happened to Ars? Who was he?” 

 

Jinyoung took the book from Yugyeom’s lap, setting it on the floor beside him. He fidgeted with Yugyeom’s fingers, seeming a little restless. “I told you before that our story is long and complex, but I’ll shorten it as best I can.” 

 

Yugyeom shook Jinyoung’s leg off so he could fold them into his chest and rest his chin on his knees. He didn’t let go of Jinyoung’s hand. 

 

“Once upon a time,” Jinyoung began and Yugyeom scoffed. He was berated for it and Jinyoung continued as if it never happened. “Once upon a time, I was the crown prince. My parents and the court raised and prepared me for kingship, while Ars,” Jinyoung hung his head and smiled sadly, “Ars was going to be the youngest archduke.” 

 

Yugyeom already knew that hadn’t gone as planned. But he waited for Jinyoung to breathe and carry on because he wasn’t even sure what to ask about his life without hearing its necessities. 

 

“We were really close, and his magic wasn’t always controlled or precise. He barely even knew what his specialty was because, like you, and like many children, his emotions influenced his actions. I’d help Ars when I could, to be a boy and have fun, guide him in simple healings whenever he got cut or bruised.” Jinyoung paused, leaning his head towards the ceiling. “And then the crowning ceremony was hell.” 

 

Yugyeom listened as Jinyoung slowly painted his history, recanting it as an internalized failure even though he was fully aware the events were not directly his fault. 

 

The stars and the fates and many tellers had seen loyalty and justice inside his spirit, with a perfectly balanced variety of magic that made him a fair ruler. But when it came time for the king’s soul to wind itself within his own, the power recoiled and rejected his title. The soul didn’t want his perfect balance or his early maturity and leadership. It wanted to feed into raw, incomplete power. It wanted someone unstable so it could be shaped to fit their intent as they grew into the throne. 

 

The soul of the king had chosen Ars, and the boy was  _ terrified _ of it. He couldn’t handle his own magic, let alone energy pulled right out of the confines of the universe and life itself. His adolescent body couldn’t hold onto the king’s power, and the soul had no other choice but to split off and seek a second host. The courts hadn’t ever experienced an incident like that before, fumbling and thundering at each other to find the missing piece. And even then, they were only looking within the walls, within royalty, or family of royalty. 

 

While Ars slept, fighting the continuous battle within himself until the king’s soul let him keep control of his body, Jinyoung snuck out to clear his head and wander the lively market. He was burdened, having let down his own reputation, his own future, and not compromising himself enough so Ars didn’t have to take the responsibilities while he was so young and unpredictable. But the village people chattered and eagerly sold their wares, blissfully ignorant of the chaos inside the castle walls. 

 

He even bought a couple handmade bracelets because of the pure adoration they had been created with. He was wrapped in a cape and scarves, wearing casual clothes underneath that he stole from the servants’ closet, but he was comfortable. No one recognized him, or asked to show his face. He was able to live a free life, just temporarily. 

 

It ended when he saw a boy, taller and broader than himself run and trip over the handle of a wagon, quickly jumping back onto his feet and continuing through the alleyway as a couple of royal guards chased after him. A static buzz made his skin warm, and it wasn’t from his layers or from watching the boy’s agility. So Jinyoung followed the guards curiously, hearing their accusations from the end of the narrow alley. 

 

“We  _ know  _ you stole it,” the taller guard said. 

 

“It’s an  _ entire  _ loaf of bread! If I was a thief, I’d have stolen an apple! I  _ paid  _ for this,” the boy reasoned. “Check my wallet,” he said, moving to show the empty sack tied to his waist. “See? Empty. I only had enough for this.” 

 

“The thing is,” the other guard lowered his voice, “we know thieves are poor,” he stuck his fingers inside the coin bag and ripped it off the cord, “but half-blood scum like you are  _ penniless _ .” 

 

The boy growled, dropping his bread and slapping his palms against the uneven, cold and damp ground. His gaze was challenging. “Has daddy never told you to beware of rogue witches?” 

 

The guards were about to strike their spears into the boy’s hands when Jinyoung caught up and deftly kicked the spears away and knocked the guards off balance. “Are you okay,” Jinyoung addressed the boy, seeing now they were relatively the same age. “I saw you pay for it,” he lied. As he convinced the boy to stand, one of the guards thwacked the wooden handle against Jinyoung’s back. He steeled his gaze and pushed down his anger, turning with calculated movements to face the guards. He imagined a barrier around him, expanding outwards until the guards were pressed flat against the brick wall. “Funny, I didn’t think my aunt was training guards to attack before proving someone guilty.” 

 

Jinyoung uncovered his face and revealed his necklace, which had his family crest on the pendant. Both guards still seemed uncertain, or they were regretting their mistakes, Jinyoung frankly hadn’t cared which. “You have two options,  _ scum _ ,” Jinyoung hated that word, but it fully applied to them for acting on their personal beliefs instead of the laws of the realm. “Take the hard and forgiving route by apologizing, or the easy and merciless route. Which one appeals to you?” 

 

“We’re not the only ones who know that  _ sewer  _ dog is a scoundrel,” the taller guard spat. 

 

The boy stepped up. “At least I don’t have attacking underaged children on my list of offenses.” 

 

The other guard sneered. “You’re not even worth dirt water.” 

 

“Obviously I am, since it’s the only thing I  _ drink _ . Except when Hani has extra milk, then I live a life of luxury,” the boy defended. 

 

Jinyoung smirked and readied his palms over the guards’ stomachs. “Really hope you’re ready to eat your own words, fellas.” He mentally played back everything the guards had said, trying to sense any negative effect it had on the other boy, and he fed it through his hands into their stomachs. And then with just a touch of his fingers over their shoulders, he dislocated them as punishment for abusing the new archduke. “Morals say that any member of higher royalty, if unjustly attacked, has the right to dole punishment as fit,” Jinyoung explained, keeping his trembling hands hidden under the cape. “And no amount of reversal or healing magic, or natural remedies will help your  _ indigestion _ .” As one final blow, Jinyoung had his barrier stay up for a couple hours so they’d be stuck against the wall and think about or argue through their rash behaviours. 

 

They calmly left the alleyway, and Jinyoung learned the boy’s name was Jaebeom. He didn’t ever argue with Jinyoung about what the rescue meant. They didn’t debate if it was a moment of pity, but Jaebeom also expressed his intention to never see Jinyoung again. He was grateful, but he didn’t need anything else. He didn’t care to know anyone who lived within the royal palace walls. But anytime Jinyoung made it outside with his disguise, he ran into Jaebeom, and the prickling under his skin grew stronger. 

 

Jinyoung consulted the courts and council as to the whereabouts of the king’s missing power, but they hadn’t yet located it, adamant that it had to be within one of their members because it only ever sought royal blood. 

 

But the guards had said Jaebeom was half blooded, which meant he belonged in that category of possibilities. Jinyoung approached the topic with Jaebeom in a variety of ways, but at the time, Jaebeom didn’t want to hear any of it. He only knew that since meeting Jinyoung, he could  _ feel  _ and connect more with life in general. He had already been a decent witch on his own, and helped on the farmlands to build his understanding of nature and the earth, but now he could see beyond the cobblestone, strip man-made wares down to the essentials of what was mined and harvested to create them. He was re-learning his own magic, and it wasn’t until a large, cherry blossom tattoo slowly and painfully formed on his back that Jaebeom believed he had the other part of the king’s soul. 

 

Jinyoung helped grant him entry into the palace, and most looked down on him, or gave him a series of deadly intensive trials to prove he really had fused with the king’s power, and he survived and passed every single one. 

 

Some time within that period, Ars had woken up, the same tattoo, mirrored from Jaebeom’s, winding and bending up his spine and blossoming at his shoulder. He said he had seen Jaebeom’s face while he was unconscious, and felt they were destined to make the kingdom flourish. 

 

And then the council stopped allowing Jinyoung to mentor Ars, said he was an unfit guide and he needed to focus on his own duties. He needed to right his failure. Ars never blamed him for the soul incident when it happened, but it was one of the first things the council twisted to fit their own agendas. Ars held grudges as he grew through his teen years, reeking of jealousy whenever Jinyoung and Jaebeom spent time together. They offered to help Ars with a disguise to escape into the marketplace for festivals and special occasions, but he always stayed behind after begging Jaebeom to celebrate within his quarters. They could have a luxurious meal and read while the candles burned, but Jaebeom always longed to roam his streets whenever he could. 

 

And then there was a council meeting, and they forced Jaebeom to stay behind. The council spoke of finding a way to unite the soul, to put the missing piece back inside Ars now that he was older and experienced with its burden and responsibilities. To Jinyoung, it sounded like breaking morals. It sounded like they hated Jaebeom’s lineage just like the guards did, and didn’t care at all if their solution took his life. 

 

Jinyoung warned Jaebeom, told him the council was corrupt and they had to find a way to stop them, if they wanted him and Ars to survive. So they spent a little more time together, brainstorming and planning, eventually bringing Mark and Jackson into the mix. Jackson could read more spells and Mark knew every back room and hall the royal quarters had to offer. He also often heard information that was only divulged at dinner tables and whispered in bedroom chambers. 

 

The council made Ars believe Jinyoung was plotting against him, that he was going to unite the soul using Jaebeom. They all spun Jinyoung’s actions into a story of betrayal, ruling him guilty of trying to take down the king and spilling secrets the council told him in confidence. That’s when he lost his archduke title, his crown and his crest, his family name revoked, stripped of everything besides his heartbeat and a set of commoner’s clothes. 

 

“Ars really wasn’t Ars, so everyone who had once been close with him forgot his name. And once he was just the king, everything ended. Everyone lost,” Jinyoung finished. 

 

Yugyeom listened to the silence, a clock ticking somewhere behind him. His face was red with anger and sorrow, feeling what Jinyoung lived through the palm of his hand. “That’s why Youngjae hyung remembered. The jealous poltergeist, your crown, the  _ rings _ …” It was possible he was imagining fifty-thousand ways to murder Jinyoung, or get him out of the picture. “That first time...on the couch,” Yugyeom widened his eyes and squeezed Jinyoung’s hand in realization, “Jaebeom hyung still has the other piece of the soul. The kiss wasn’t  _ his  _ fault, it was Youngjae hyung.” 

 

“Probably not on purpose, but it’s possible,” Jinyoung said. 

 

Even if the blame was equal, both needing to consent and carry out their intimacy, Yugyeom’s guilt over that moment slammed right back into him. He glanced at Jinyoung and in the direction of the staircase. He wanted to find Jaebeom and apologize again, but Jinyoung showed so many of his scars and he didn’t want to abandon him if he was vulnerable. 

 

Jinyoung kissed the back of his hand. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead,” he permitted, sensing Yugyeom’s goal. “I’ll tidy up.” 

 

Yugyeom stretched and moved his legs so the muscles wouldn’t numb up before he stood. He leaned over and held Jinyoung’s face in his hands, briefly kissing his lips. “We’ll cuddle tonight, hyung.” 

 

Jinyoung took the remark as genuinely as Yugyeom had meant it. “I know.” 

 

Yugyeom pecked his forehead, laying his overshirt around Jinyoung’s shoulders. He ascended the stairs and glanced inside every exposed room in the left hall only to find Jaebeom in the living room, staring at the jade ring on his finger as if it kept any secrets for itself. Yugyeom could only focus on how stupid he was to invade the coven’s privacy by opening that chest. He had been ignorant and a little jealous if he was honest, and didn’t give Jaebeom a fair chance in the beginning. They had worked past their differences to find some similarities, but frankly, Yugyeom knew he had fucked up a lot. 

 

His mistakes, his dreams from their memories, and finally hearing Jinyoung recant their lives, Yugyeom broke. 

 

He broke down in tears and exhaustion, stuck in a constant state of being overwhelmed and scared of all the unknowns. Jaebeom left the couch to calm him down, hands patting his back as he cried in the crook of Jaebeom’s neck. He eventually sat Yugyeom down and brewed him a cup of lavender-mint tea, saying it would help his nerves and soothe his restlessness if he slept. He leaned his head against Jaebeom’s shoulder, hugging his arm. 

 

“There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have done, and I’m sorry, hyung.” He meant to go on, but his voice cracked and he felt the tears returning. 

 

Jaebeom handed him a handkerchief to dry his face and catch his sniffles. “Like Jackson said before, it means something that you’re here. It goes both ways, kid. You haven’t run, and we haven’t kicked you out.” 

 

He spent another couple moments letting the lavender calm set into his bones and the mint to gently refresh his head. He kept his gaze on the floor, fiddling with the seam of the handkerchief. “Do you blame me? For triggering Youngjae hyung’s memories.” 

 

“Yes,” Jaebeom answered immediately. He waited for Yugyeom to look at him, lightly chuckling and poking his finger between Yugyeom’s eyebrows. “Because you’re blaming yourself.” He ruffled Yugyeom’s hair and pulled him to lay on his thigh. “But everyone knows it would happen, whether he saw Jinyoungie’s crown or not. His jealousy was  _ certainly  _ returning.” 

 

Yugyeom closed his heavy eyes, feeling the burn and ache now that his tears dried. He replayed the first time they called the coven and attacked Jaebeom for not answering; Youngjae kissing him as if that was all he needed to keep breathing; the moment when they watched their king fall through a tear in the universe declaring his own definition of safety and war. 

 

Yugyeom cuddled against his arm and directed every incident into his words. “It wasn’t your fault, hyung.” 

 

“Just rest, okay? You shouldn’t have any nightmares.” 

 

He decided to wholly trust those words, without any doubt, and let his mind sink into a deep sleep. 

 

*

 

Jaebeom had gotten up once so his legs wouldn’t go numb, and he grabbed a book to try and read while Yugyeom cuddled against his thigh. He hoped it would distract him, but his brain loved to cling to phrases that shot through his weaknesses. 

 

_ It wasn’t your fault _ . 

 

No matter how many times he reminded himself of that, the guilt always resurfaced, stronger and harder to ignore. Control was slipping through his fingers like sand and even with his ring for balance, the emotions blocked some of its power. And he was focused on the fact that he was the one who failed their king. He was the last one to have his trust, and until the end, the king was too hurt to fully believe Jaebeom would want to dethrone him. 

 

And he allowed Youngjae’s violent  _ need  _ to dig into him until he nearly forgot that his coven came first. He let that power into his home and let it wreak havoc and unbury the chaos. It was a power that called the shadows to it, that melted the protection barrier to let them in, and it was a power that resonated with the darkness they spelled to the attic room. 

 

If Yugyeom was stupid, Jaebeom was an un-observant airhead. He put his own family at risk by living in this house to begin with. 

 

The guilt swallowed him as he rubbed his temples and moved his hand up and down Yugyeom’s side to keep himself grounded, and help the younger stay asleep. 

 

Jinyoung stubbornly sighed and sat across from him on the coffee table. “You should take care of yourself, too.” He nodded towards Yugyeom, “Not just us.”  

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and hid his finger with the ring under his leg. “I am,” he lied. 

 

“Is that why you haven’t told anyone how your magic is doing?” Jinyoung crossed his ankles and folded his hands into his lap. “Because Seunie felt a shift. He and Mark hyung are still digging up clay,” 

 

It reminded him of the weakened fog and Bambam’s advice. “He needs to fix the fog again.” 

 

Jinyoung pressed his lips together and then crossed his arms, rich brown eyes reading his soul. “He did that, too.” He kept staring in silence, waiting for an answer to a question he wasn’t going to ask.

 

They had known each other far too long for Jaebeom to play games or ignore what he wanted. He groaned. “I’m fucking naive, okay? I still didn’t want to believe it was Youngjae, but I watched some recordings I had of the fog and there were noticeable changes before he left.  _ That’s  _ how I know.” 

 

Jinyoung loosened his posture and leaned forward, quieting his voice. “You know we don’t care what events you connect back to him. We don’t fault you for arguing about it, but we have to know that you believe us  _ now _ . I already know the rabbit hole you’re in, so I won’t ask for an apology or explanations, but you should talk with Seunie and Mark hyung. You never even got a chance to fix that stupid strawberry milk fight.” His eyes softened. “And I miss you sleeping beside me. So, know that I’m never going to blame you, hyung. Things that happen are all our responsibilities.” 

 

Jaebeom had heard that rhetoric before, but he always put it upon himself to carry the burdens and the blame and the mistakes in hopes that no one else would carry the negatives around. He still dropped his guard and sighed, nodding so Jinyoung knew he’d process everything before acting. He didn’t want to add to the somber tension in the room, so he turned to Yugyeom’s sleeping form, and the visible tattoo from his shirt riding above his waist when he shifted during his rest. “What about this responsibility? Is it healing alright?” 

 

“I’m not sure if he’ll have any defensive tools, but it hasn’t destroyed him. He was actually trying to read Jimin’s journals. Maybe it tried to translate.” 

 

Jaebeom softly whistled. “I even forgot we smuggled those out.” He playfully kicked Jinyoung’s feet. “She should have been chosen instead. The council couldn’t fuck with a feisty and optimistic queen wielding the king’s soul.” 

 

The image got Jinyoung to smile. “On another timeline,” he fantasized. 

 

Yugyeom stirred awake, groggily whining and rubbing his eyes and itching his cheek against Jaebeom’s pants. 

 

“I made him drink lavender-mint tea,” Jaebeom mouthed and pointed dramatically to the younger. 

 

Jinyoung nodded in understanding. “He promised to cuddle, so I’ll take him to bed.” He stood up and helped pull Yugyeom off the couch and onto his feet. “You sleep with us, too, okay?” 

 

Jaebeom responded with a small smile because he still wasn’t sure if he could justify it to himself. Jinyoung walked unsteadily with Yugyeom into the bedroom, and Jaebeom was free to move and bend his legs and stretch out his arms, waist, and spine. He had been stiff for too long and finally laid down along the couch. 

 

He covered up with one of the throw blankets and hugged a pillow to his chest. Even with his eyes closed, his mind raced. If Yugyeom had tried to read Jimin’s journals, then it meant he was probably crying because Jinyoung filled in the details. Like he did every other time. 

 

And he never retells it from the middle because the beginning is the reason it ended in disaster. He always replayed their first meetings over, knowing that if he had another chance, he would have used his magic on the guards sooner. He wouldn’t have let Jinyoung hold them accountable for their actions against the kingdom’s disgrace. If Jaebeom hadn’t ever met Jinyoung, their lives would be normal, and the realm would be intact. 

 

It was his fault for being generous and indecisive instead of bold and reckless. 

 

He spent hours rewriting his life, tearing a hole in the poor pillow as he clung tighter and tighter. And then he heard a door open and footsteps quietly approaching him. Jinyoung’s familiar hand grabbed his wrist and he immediately released the pillow. 

 

“You’ll wake up sore,” was all he offered, and Jaebeom followed his lead around the corner and into the master bedroom. He didn’t let go until Jaebeom crawled into bed with him. 

 

Yugyeom tucked himself against Jinyoung’s back, mostly asleep. Jaebeom was a cautious distance away, floating in all the reasons why he wasn’t even allowed to touch Jinyoung, or sleep in this bed. But Jinyoung convinced him to come closer, kissing his cheek. “You have me, hyung,” he whispered. “I won’t let you get lost.” He gave Jaebeom a short kiss on his lips. 

 

Jaebeom buried himself in Jinyoung’s chest, his arm draping over his waist and his hand falling onto Yugyeom. Yugyeom naturally folded their hands, while Jinyoung’s arms felt warm and secure. Jaebeom couldn’t forget his chaos, but just for one night, he could share it. He could breathe it out and ignore it. 

 

He could cry it out and carry on with a new afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always thank you guys for reading and letting us know when ur in ur feels 
> 
> contact me other ways with [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> or my partner in crime [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)


	4. Scene IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please take all the warnings lmao this is one hell of a chapter i wish u all luck 
> 
> also theres markbeom in this but i just dont wanna make it a tag as its not super recurring mmkay peep that rating too uwu hAVE FUN

Mark had taken on a very simple house cleansing. Alone. So, of course, that meant it wasn’t very simple at all. The unidentified energy had free reign of the entire apartment building, not just one apartment  _ unit _ . He trapped it bit by bit, level by level while climbing the stairs because the elevator was too old to be convenient and trustworthy. And by the time he sage-smoked it all into a crystal and imprisoned it with a short spell, nearly the entire day had gone by. 

 

It was 7 PM when he finally climbed back into the car, exhausted and hungry and ready to spill his snark to the next person who chose to speak to him. 

 

Which, of course, was Jackson. He finished off the vegetables and said Yugyeom drank the last soda, and asked Mark to make a quick stop at the store. Mark knew it would save gas, but it wouldn’t save Jackson’s life. He had a whole crystal of uncomfortable energy, and he was more than willing to release it into Jackson’s garden, or his makeshift apothecary room. The younger could vanquish it with a scream and some fire anyway, but that one second of haunting would be enough to get the message across. 

 

Reluctantly, Mark drove to the freshest market for vegetables; he added disposable gloves, condoms, and the sharpest chef’s knife he could find because one way or another, he was sure to fuck someone up tonight, not to mention his favorite game was having a weird basket of items to watch the cashier’s subtle reactions in guessing how the items fit together. He stocked up on cola and strawberry milk. Jaebeom had drank the last of it a few days ago, and Mark still held a grudge from their earlier argument, so now Jaebeom would have  _ both _ drink options. The cashier merely raised his eyebrows and made a light comment about missing alcohol and lighters. If cashiers could accept tips, Mark would have slipped him twenty dollars. 

 

Once Mark set the groceries on the counter, he beelined for the room of that infernal screaming beast of Nature’s worst rejects, and buried his cleansing crystal under her damp moss and disgustingly dry soil. Maybe Greg would finally learn to stay silent in the morning. He returned to the kitchen and found Jaebeom already using the new knife for the vegetables while boiling water for noodles. 

 

He said nothing. He didn’t even glance at Mark. 

 

“Upset that I got milk  _ and  _ soda? Isn’t it a servant’s  _ job  _ to please?” Mark scoffed. He was tired and petty, daydreaming of a nice, burning hot shower. 

 

Jaebeom paused his cutting. Mark watched him twirl the knife, mentally daring him to try and attack while they were at opposite ends of a spectrum of vulnerability. But he tapped the knife softly against the cutting board before letting it clank harshly onto the counter, and he stiffly walked over. Mark kept his arms crossed and didn’t care that his back was already against the island. He was irritated enough to make that knife fly into Jaebeom’s leg if it came to that. 

 

Surprisingly, Jaebeom leaned his chin onto Mark’s shoulder, and wrapped his arms around him with a heavy sigh. “I won’t take your anger away, but I’m sorry.” 

 

Mark uncrossed his arms. 

 

“About the argument and about Youngjae and…” He trailed off and laid his cheek on Mark’s shoulder, keeping the moment for everything he didn’t need to say for it to be known. He was in turmoil, just like everyone else and not every apology or sentiment had words to describe it in the right context. “ _ Please _ , hyung, forget the servant thing already. You were one, but I was half-blood sewer  _ scum _ .” 

 

Mark heard the shift in his voice and the tiny hitch in his chest, and held Jaebeom tightly. 

 

“I never forget my place, and that you’re above that. You  _ know  _ I still listen to you. Everyone does.” 

 

Mark pat his back and threaded his fingers through his hair. “You’re listening now, and I hate to tell you this…” 

 

Jaebeom cautiously lifted his head to look at Mark. “But?” 

 

“Your water is about to boil over,” he winced. 

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ , I forgot I was cooking!” He ran to the stove and turned the burner down, waiting for the water to stop foaming and bubbling near the edge of the pot. When it was under control, he smiled, embarrassed. “Go get changed, hyung. I’ll make enough food for you, too.” 

 

“You better,” Mark joked. 

 

He took a hot shower to wash the day off the surface of his skin. He got lost thinking of Jaebeom’s hands pressing into his back, noticing the pressure of another ring, and how he repeated one of the slurs from their realm. He was obviously falling and failing all over again, and Mark couldn’t stop him from losing control, but he could do his best to postpone it. Until they found a solution. 

 

He slipped into a pair of joggers. Jaebeom had just finished cleaning the pot and pan when he entered the kitchen, and their dinner was plated and still steaming. They carried it into the living room, Mark resting his feet on the edge of the coffee table and Jaebeom sat beside him with his legs crossed. They ate in relative silence, Jaebeom inserting questions about the house cleansing to make sure Mark hadn’t been hurt at all. 

 

When they were done, Jaebeom curled into Mark’s lap, closing his eyes and humming contently when Mark played with his hair. He used the quiet space to focus on Jaebeom and how his energy was rapidly shifting from regret and exhaustion, to restless and wondering how to fix everything. The coven hadn’t even had time to regroup and figure out their options, so there was no way Jaebeom would figure out a solution by himself in one night. 

 

Out of respect, Mark pretended he didn’t notice the ring, even though Jaebeom had a habit of fidgeting with it. Eventually, the creaks of the wind against the house and the faint echoes of the others talking seemed less interesting than the thoughts yelling to be free of Mark’s mind. 

 

“Jaebeommie,” he said so the younger would open his eyes. 

 

He meant to dive head first into their pasts, reassure Jaebeom he wasn’t scum and he wasn’t below  _ or  _ above Mark in any way. They had more than their fair share of violent arguments, but hearing Jaebeom repeat his discrimination from a closed minded kingdom reopened Mark’s honest fondness inside those shadows. It took him back to serving in the royal kitchen, watching how the other cooks and servants took to him, despite how they were  _ supposed  _ to feel about a non-royal freely wandering the halls. They let him sneak imperfect slices of bread and less presentable sweets, giving him slightly more positive attention, even when they were hitting him with wooden spoons so he’d let them do their jobs properly. 

 

They still whispered rumors when Jaebeom wasn’t around, and one of the kitchen maids had an outlandish crush on him, and no good intention in sight. Mark had grown tired of the gossip and the debates about Jaebeom’s true heritage, what he did or didn’t deserve, especially when it was obvious no one in the royal rankings treated him like the double edged sword he could be. Some days, he really looked on the edge of some kind of break, and that’s when Mark took to observing him more. Sending vague nods and glances his way, playfully judging when he left the kitchen with food in his hand. 

 

Eventually, Mark pulled him aside with positivity and praises, and that same intense need to praise Jaebeom currently flooded his heart and mind. He only wanted Jaebeom to remember that even if he lost control, or thought himself unworthy, he was still doing the best he could within the circumstances. 

 

Instead of speaking, Mark lightly pulled Jaebeom’s hair and bent down to kiss his forehead, and his lips. Jaebeom easily returned the sentiment, sighing into it and quietly whining when Mark pulled away. “You’re still bitter,” Jaebeom pouted. 

 

Mark chuckled and gestured for Jaebeom to sit up. “Jinyoung wins when it comes to pettiness. We worked through our shit and you won’t hear about it again until the next time we argue.” 

 

Jaebeom huffed, bringing their dishes into the kitchen. Mark thought he upset him somehow, or that Jaebeom was just craving more attention than what he had received. He wasn’t ever one to ask Mark for more because they just mutually understood what their body language was saying. It was still true because Jaebeom quickly came back, and straddled Mark’s lap. His knees rested against Mark’s hips and he laid his cheek on Mark’s shoulder. Mark coddled and cradled him, rubbing his back and lightly massaging his neck, teasing his hair until more of his body relaxed. 

 

The mood settled and Mark took the chance to begin something he knew the ending of. “Wanna know what I miss most?” 

 

Jaebeom’s hands curled against his back. 

 

Mark slipped his hands under Jaebeom’s shirt and lightly scratched down the bare skin. “The royal kitchen. That place was fucking dull and mundane until Jinyoungie dragged you in. All kinds of gossip took over the kitchen.” 

 

“I was a villain to them, or a novelty toy at best.” 

 

“You weren’t novelty, but you were a fun toy. Remember the day after we finally kissed and you didn’t think I’d still give you attention? So, when I complimented you for a spell, you literally tripped?” 

 

Jaebeom nuzzled his head into Mark’s neck, obviously embarrassed at the memory while pretending he had no recollection of the incident. 

 

Mark kept every incident between them in organized mental files because Jaebeom had been one of the first people to match his enthusiasm and observation during their interactions. It was unique and reassuring; cheesy if he said Jaebeom was one of his first real friends, if that’s what they were at the time, but regardless, it was a relationship he enjoyed. He never forgot the good or bad between them, and everything that happened in or near the royal kitchen. 

 

“I broke a couple of the head chef’s teeth once because he talked shit about you. He never exposed me for it because I knew something far worse about him.” 

 

“Only the bakers kind of liked me, anyway.” 

 

“And one servant. In fact,” Mark threaded his fingers into Jaebeom’s hair and lightly pulled on it, “weren’t you caught in his bed?” 

 

Jaebeom’s breath hitched and he shook his head, denying any scandal he was about to relive. 

 

“Bored from too much reading, so you snuck into his room and he caught you desperately humping his bed.” 

 

“Wasn’t that just someone who looked like me?” Jaebeom’s voice was already trembling, his hands twitching against Mark’s skin. 

 

“From what I heard, it was  _ your  _ voice mumbling and moaning his name. You wanted to be told when to come, and he said you deserved to come whenever.” Mark was grinning, while Jaebeom whined, flustered and growing needy. “And there’s a rumor it happened in this realm, too. While you wore his favorite oversized hoodie, without permission. And he  _ still  _ told you how good you looked, without punishment.” 

 

Jaebeom squirmed, pressing his lips against Mark’s shoulder and nearly biting into him. 

 

“Now, if that was a different you and a different me, we might as well just go to bed. But, if that was actually you and actually me,” he turned to whisper near Jaebeom’s ear, “I’ll give you attention until it  _ burns _ .” 

 

Jaebeom muttered, squirming in Mark’s lap like he was trying to disappear, but Mark asked for clarification, and Jaebeom whined before saying, “I’m already burning.” 

 

Mark cooed and chuckled, gently running his hands up and down Jaebeom’s sides before stopping to massage his hips. “Do you admit it was you, then?” 

 

Jaebeom nodded. “Yes, it was. Now can the games stop?” He pouted, likely because he wanted more than what Mark was already giving him. 

 

But Mark’s specialty was teasing Jaebeom until he folded and melted into an incoherent, tired and cuddly mass of goo. Mark recalled one time he pushed Jaebeom so far out of his body that he forgot he even had magic snaking under his skin. It was a little terrifying, and Mark never went so hard again, but it was great to know he was the only one capable of wrecking Jaebeom with positive methods. And for that reason, he wanted to witness for himself how flushed Jaebeom was. 

 

He carefully guided the younger to finally unbury himself, and cupped his face to examine the pinks blooming under his skin, and the desperate and embarrassed glaze over his eyes. When Mark let his hands wander under Jaebeom’s shirt again, he was surprised, and proud that Jaebeom didn’t break eye contact. Mark smirked and flicked one of Jaebeom’s nipples. “You know my games don’t end, kitten. I play them too well to ever stop.” 

 

Jaebeom kept a growl in the back of his throat and stripped his shirt off. He dove in for a rougher kiss, already messily rolling his hips, seeking any kind of friction. Normally, Mark was willing to adapt and match Jaebeom’s pace, but to truly give him the praise and attention he wanted, they were going to have to take it slower. So, Mark gripped Jaebeom’s hips to keep him still, and he broke the kiss, resting his cheek against Mark’s, breathing heavy. 

 

“Sorry, I just…” 

 

“No, shh. It’s okay,” Mark reassured. “We have so much time, okay?” 

 

Jaebeom circled his arms around Mark’s neck, counting half out loud until he was steadier. “Is it smart to stay on the couch?” 

 

“With me, anywhere is smart.” 

 

Jaebeom scoffed and untangled himself from Mark, going so far as to stand up, groaning at the ache in his legs from keeping his knees bent too long. Mark also rose to his feet, dancing his hand up Jaebeom’s chest to place it lightly around his neck. He thought he had said something too cliche and greasy and Jaebeom planned to walk away, but instead he welcomed the touch and closed the distance with a soft kiss. Mark let him control it since he wasn’t rushing anything, and he teased his fingers just below Jaebeom’s waistband. 

 

He smiled as Jaebeom hummed and softly stroked his cheek, not yet going in for another kiss. It was obvious he was still desperate, but he wasn’t ready to ask and Mark wasn’t going to make him beg, especially when they weren’t even properly set up for what they were starting now. And they needed to be because Mark couldn’t even guess how long Jaebeom needed the night to last. 

 

He circled his hand around Jaebeom’s wrist and leaned his head towards Jaebeom’s touch. “Hey, precious? Do you wanna grab some water and your favorite snacks? I want us to have everything we need within reach. Is that okay?” Mark was always cautious not to insinuate that he had control over Jaebeom, unless they had communicated that beforehand. His focus was building Jaebeom up until he tumbled down and felt solid ground beneath his feet again, and putting himself in power would only bury Jaebeom. 

 

Jaebeom kissed Mark’s fingers and nodded. “What about you?”

 

“Just bring some gummy bears or something. I’m gonna get the lube and towels,” he saw Jaebeom’s mouth open but hushed him, “and double check that Nora can’t wander in.” 

 

He visibly sighed. “She’d hate me forever.” 

 

Mark laughed and patted his hand. “It won’t happen. Trust me.” 

 

“Okay,” Jaebeom easily agreed. His arms fell to his sides and he closed his eyes. “It won’t take long, right?” 

 

“Just a few minutes.” Mark touched Jaebeom’s bottom lip with his thumb, wishing he could bite the fragile skin open right now. “But kitten,” Jaebeom’s eyes opened halfway at the pet name, “if you get impatient, you know you can tease yourself. I never get tired of watching.” 

 

The sound Jaebeom made was somewhere between a whine and a growl. He clenched his fists and resolved to fling himself towards the kitchen, likely so he didn’t get any more distracted. So, Mark also left, first to find Nora. She was already laid out in her special fireproof room, sleeping peacefully beside her toys. He didn’t exactly want to lock her in, so he drew a symbol of protection at the beginning and end of the hallway, imbuing it with the thought of Nora and his intent to keep her away from observing any sexual act beyond kissing. 

 

He quickly walked straight down the other hall for necessities, also pausing to send the group a warning text. He didn’t want anyone to get offended or disgusted if they walked in on him and Jaebeom fucking in the living room, but he figured they had done it before so it wasn’t bound to cause issue. He also made it clear that it was more of a praising session, and if any of them planned on joining or interrupting, they had to keep the mood or face Mark murdering them without regret. 

 

Mark had the bright idea to grab a lube Jackson had made. The magic in it wasn’t actually overwhelming, but it added just enough extra sensitivity that he knew he had to use it. He gathered a blanket and towels, and added a little bullet vibrator to his pile. When he returned to the living room, he saw a few water bottles and various opened snack bags sitting on the coffee table. Jaebeom had also moved the throw blanket from the couch to the coffee table, so it wouldn’t get lost or dirty. 

 

Jaebeom was on the couch, watching Mark intently as he rocked up into his own hand, clothes still on. Mark took his time organizing the items, placing the blanket on top of the other one and scooting the coffee table just a little closer, the bottle of lube on the ground with the small vibrator, and he hung the towels on the arm of the couch. He then stood back to watch Jaebeom work himself up. “You are beautiful.” 

 

Jaebeom slid his hand under his pants to tease over his growing erection. “Then touch me.” 

 

Mark tapped his chin in fake deep thought before rejecting. “You’re like the art no one is allowed to touch.” 

 

“Someone has to touch the art to display it, Mark. So will you get over here, please?” 

 

Mark really couldn’t argue with that logic and gave in to the plead. He threaded both hands into Jaebeom’s hair, the younger quickly getting flustered. Mark pecked Jaebeom’s cheek and gave him a lingering kiss on his lips before trailing his hands down Jaebeom’s body, naturally kneeling with the movement. “Your honeymoon crush on me is so cute, kitten. You can have as much of my attention as you want.” He tugged on Jaebeom’s pants and Jaebeom lifted his ass from the couch so Mark could take them off. 

 

They hadn’t a moment like this in too long, and Mark reminded himself that they did have time right now. Maybe it wasn’t ideal, amidst downspirals and not having a plan yet for Youngjae, but to have a better mindset going into the next battle, they both needed to release tension before their magic’s imbalance became dangerous. So he entwined his fingers with Jaebeom’s and held his gaze, running his other hand over Jaebeom’s thigh. 

 

There was a certain comfort in clothes, but Mark preferred Jaebeom naked, even if they weren’t doing anything beyond innocent. There were several times when he woke up to Jaebeom curled on his chest with their legs tangled together, and he spent the morning tracing the scars and beauty marks on his back, drawing symbols of affection by memory. 

 

There was also a couple moles on Jaebeom’s thigh that Mark loved to admire, even more so because his thighs were sensitive. Instead of scratching with his nails, Mark added pressure when he dragged his palm across it, making Jaebeom groan and grip his hand tighter. “What do you wanna do tonight, kitten?” Mark asked playfully, but his grin showed he was just as desperate for something more. To encourage Jaebeom to reply, he sucked on a couple of his fingers. 

 

Jaebeom stared with his mouth open and Mark caught the flush high on his cheeks. It took him a long, silent moment to figure out his words, and when he did, he licked his lips before speaking. “That,” he said, referring to his fingers between Mark’s lips. “I want  _ that _ .” 

 

Mark took Jaebeom’s fingers out of his mouth, straightening his posture and leveraging his palms on Jaebeom’s thighs to get closer to his face. Jaebeom yelped and closed his eyes. “You’ll get it, but I meant whose ass is getting fucked?” 

 

Jaebeom leaned his head back, muscles already tensing from his decision. He slowly inhaled, and quickly exhaled with his answer. “Let me ride you.” 

 

“As long as you don’t hold back. Don’t think about your control. You won’t hurt me or the house, okay?” 

 

Jaebeom hesitated, but eventually nodded and put his trust in Mark. Before beginning anything else, he made sure Jaebeom was comfortable with using their own lube, not wanting to push him farther than he thought he could actually handle. And when he had consent, he relaxed his posture and fondly tilted his head towards Jaebeom’s thigh. He stroked his cock with one finger and grinned. “It’s so perfect, you know? I don’t really get a chance to suck Jackson’s dick, and Jinyoungie is  _ big _ , but you?” He glanced up to see Jaebeom’s eyes on him. “I can swallow you whole.” 

 

Jaebeom could only whine Mark’s name, but the low tone convinced him to give Jaebeom everything he wanted. He kissed up Jaebeom’s thigh, nipping at his moles and the inside of his thigh as he went. He nosed at Jaebeom’s cock, grasping the bottom of it firmly with his hand before teasing the tip with his tongue. Jaebeom gasped and shifted down, spreading his legs wider. 

 

Mark kissed the now slick head and continued rubbing his cock with his hand. “Are you ready, kitten? You’re about to feel a lot at once.” He pumped lube into the palm of his free hand, preparing to finger Jaebeom open while working him to the edge with his mouth. 

 

“I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it,” Jaebeom said through heavy breaths. 

 

Mark ran his thumb along the sensitive vein on Jaebeom’s dick and smirked. He was worried Jaebeom was going to fall into an old trap, seeing obedience as a synonym for for keeping his manners, for being the good boy he wanted to be, but hearing that he hadn’t fallen back into that way of thinking was just more incentive to go as hard and as long as they needed to, even if they were still fucking at sunrise. 

 

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve said.” 

 

Jaebeom averted his gaze and crossed his arms over his face. “Do you  _ have  _ to talk so much?” 

 

Now that the lube was warmed up in his hand, Mark spread it around and experimentally poked his fingertip into Jaebeom’s hole. “When seeing you embarrassed is part of the foreplay, absolutely.” 

 

He worked his finger in the rest of the way and cut off any response Jaebeom had planned. He licked his lips and without anymore delay wrapped them around Jaebeom. At first, he only took him halfway into his mouth, sucking up to the tip and down again. He curled the finger inside Jaebeom to match the movement, swallowing him a little more when he added a second finger. 

 

It didn’t take long before Jaebeom was already feeling more sensitive. His muscles were tensing and relaxing abnormally, goosebumps breaking out over his skin in patches. “Fuck Mark, please. I can take it.” 

 

Mark breathed in and slowly swallowed Jaebeom to the hilt. He enjoyed how perfectly it fit, not wholly uncomfortable or hitting deep enough in his throat to make him gag. He hollowed his cheeks and moaned when he felt it twitch, and he worked Jaebeom’s ass open even more. One of Jaebeom’s hands grabbed his hair, and Mark tapped Jaebeom’s hip as a signal to fuck his mouth if he wanted. 

 

Surprisingly, Jaebeom kept his pacing, only bucking his hips slightly, pulling out and sliding into Mark’s mouth dangerously slow, and they both got lost in the feeling. Mark eventually stopped when Jaebeom started whining about coming before having Mark inside him. He did work more lube into Jaebeom’s ass, stroking his own cock with it in tandem. 

 

When they were ready, Mark wiped his hands on a towel before placing the blankets on the cushion beside them. Most of Jaebeom’s shivering was from being edged and desperate, but it was obvious no one else was going to intrude on them and he wanted to create a smaller space of comfort and warmth just between them. 

 

Mark sat down on the couch beside Jaebeom, petting his arm until he released his hands from the back of the couch. “It’s okay, precious. I’ll keep you grounded.” 

 

He helped Jaebeom straddle his lap, and the younger immediately cradled his face and kissed his lips. Mark moaned into it, letting his hands wander up Jaebeom’s chest to tease his nipples. Jaebeom bit Mark’s bottom lip on accident, pulling away as if he had burned himself. “Sorry, we just haven’t…” 

 

“I know, and I won’t get mad. I already told you to release energy if you need to.” Mark held Jaebeom’s face close. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered. 

 

Jaebeom’s gaze softened back into an addicting desperation, silently pleading for Mark to keep touching him. He didn’t refuse, running his hands over Jaebeom’s arms and neck, fingers gently twisting his nipples and continuing their path to dig into his thighs. Jaebeom growled and held Mark’s cock steady as he carefully sat on it, pausing as he needed to and heavily gasping until Mark was completely buried inside him. 

 

Jaebeom’s forehead dropped towards Mark’s shoulder. Mark pet his head and lightly raked his nails up and down his back to distract from any uncomfortable aching. He took the moment to drape one of the blankets around Jaebeom’s shoulder, creating their own little spacious cocoon. Jaebeom melted at the warmth already getting trapped between them, sighing against Mark’s neck. He secured the blanket’s corners between his thumbs and index fingers and finally began to move his hips. 

 

Mark grabbed the little bullet vibrator and turned it on, running it down Jaebeom’s chest and his sides just to make him squirm and redden a bit more. He then pressed it against his cock for a second, Jaebeom grasping his shoulders for dear life. “Should I do it again?” 

 

Jaebeom hesitated, working up his courage to ask for something else. “Do you have two of them?” 

 

“Just one, kitten. Do you want two?” 

 

Jaebeom shyly showed his face and shook his head. “I just want  _ more  _ but I don’t know what that means.” 

 

Mark sorted through his brain to find something that would help, and he remembered something very particular from very long ago, but it was worth a shot. “Do you remember when we first harnessed static electricity? Before we turned it into lightning.” 

 

“Not really?” Jaebeom paused before the memory came back. “ _ Oh _ . Oh, fuck.” 

 

“We may have changed so just tell me to stop.” 

 

Jaebeom was already biting his lip and rocking his hips again, this time looking down to watch Mark tease his cock with the mini vibrator. Mark focused on all the fabric surrounding them and the natural energies in the air and collected it all into the palm of his hand, extending his index finger and slowly exhaling. Gently, he put his fingertip against Jaebeom’s thigh. 

 

“I won’t break.” 

 

Mark tried again, visualizing a little more of the static energy dancing at the edge of his finger. He pressed along Jaebeom’s thigh again, and his mouth dropped open as he nodded his head. It wasn’t pure electricity, but it wasn’t as sudden as a static shock, either. But the first time Mark harnessed static electricity in the human realm, he accidentally collected it one particularly intense night, and Jaebeom had only asked to feel it again. 

 

It released some kind of buzz under his skin that made his mind actually quiet and only focus on Mark, on what they mutually craved, and it made him twitch and squirm in ways that he enjoyed. 

 

So, Mark found a rhythm, alternating between the vibrator on Jaebeom’s dick and redirecting softer electricity against his skin. Jaebeom rocked his hips erratically and as the tension built, he grasped the back of the couch, keeping the blanket secure around them. Mark fucked up into him when he could, and combined with everything, Jaebeom was shaking and groaning, too close to falling off the edge. 

 

“It’s so hot, Mark, I’m gonna ruin something.” 

 

“Here, let go of the blanket. Fall apart, kitten. You’re so good, okay? You deserve this,” he whispered into Jaebeom’s ear. 

 

He did release the blanket, but kept hold on the couch, gasping and biting down into Mark’s shoulder. Mark didn’t give him another break, forgoing the static electricity play to hold Jaebeom’s cock and keep the vibrator on the head of it. He heard Jaebeom’s fist hit the couch, and surprisingly, Mark was the first one to come, but he dragged Jaebeom with him. 

 

Jaebeom growled and groaned through his orgasm, coming all over Mark’s chest and stomach, and his own thighs. And when Mark blinked out of his daze, he noticed the smell of smoldering fabric wafting from behind. Jaebeom didn’t lift his head. “I crushed the flames once I realized…,” he mostly mumbled. 

 

Mark wrapped his arms tightly around Jaebeom, and broke into hyena laughter. “This couch is so fucked. If you set it on fire on  _ purpose  _ I would thank you.” He supported Jaebeom as he carefully slid off Mark’s softening dick, but he didn’t climb off his lap. 

 

“Then why did you fix it after the Nora incident?” 

 

“It was kind of the only option, but magic glue can’t mend something if its already ash,” Mark said mischievously. He wasn’t suggesting to recover for another round until half the couch was smoking, but that’s exactly what he was suggesting. “Now come on and stretch your legs out or you’ll regret it.” 

 

Jaebeom pouted and held tighter onto Mark. “Just a little longer. Please, Mark?” 

 

“Fine, but you’re gonna drink water and eat one of these snacks in the meantime. Can’t have you crashing so hard.” 

 

“Why? Wanna fuck again?” 

 

Mark kissed the top of Jaebeom’s head. “If that’s what you want, precious, we can.” 

 

Jaebeom untangled himself from Mark’s embrace to look at him. “Laying down?” 

 

“This is why you’re deserving.” Mark used a towel to wipe the cum off, pecking Jaebeom on the cheek before leaning slightly forward for water and emergency snacks, and when Jaebeom eventually flopped onto his own cushion to give his knees a break, Mark talked all about his plans to wreck him with his foul mouth and kisses while grinding against each other. 

 

Just from his expressions, he knew Jaebeom was bound to destroy the couch for good before their night was up. Mark really couldn’t wait to watch it light up and reward Jaebeom for losing control positively. 

 

*

 

Jackson dreamt of a narrow path, lined with twisting tree roots and the branches braided to lock him in. He could only step forward, endlessly, in this world devoid of skies and colored in muted shades. The further along he went, the thicker the air became and his body felt heavier. It was like he was suddenly walking against a rubber band and he was hitting the final resistance point, close to being knocked backwards. 

 

But he saw petals from the cherry blossoms, and grunted as he continued forward until the trunk came faintly into view. There were two figures sitting against it, but one opened their eyes and made a cool breeze roll through. The light pink petals returned to white, and the branches dulled to grey as the figure stared him down. Jackson lost focus and he was pulled backwards, forced to watch the life of the cherry blossom wither until his nightmare broke apart, pixel by pixel and he startled awake. 

 

“Hyung? You okay?” Bambam worried, brushing Jackson’s bangs off his face. He also felt Nora nosing at his hand and whimpering. “I think you were sleep panicking.” 

 

Jackson closed his eyes and counted the seconds it took to fill his lungs with oxygen, and counted his exhale. He repeated the breathing exercise until his limbs relaxed. He scritched Nora’s ear and patted the younger’s back before curling his hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay, B.” 

 

Bambam reached over to grab the water bottle off the nightstand and he gestured for Jackson to sit up against the headboard. “Take small sips. I’ll be right back.” 

 

Jackson didn’t argue. He was in a slight daze still, and his eyes didn’t want to cooperate and focus and he couldn’t quite manage to keep his head up. So he drank small sips and tapped at the plastic everytime he settled the bottle back on his lap, and he only started to feel better when Nora draped her warm weight over his legs. 

 

Bambam returned in record time with a couple of damp washcloths and a fresh cup of tea. “This was in the regular cabinet labelled as  _ fresh energy _ , so I really hope I’m not giving you your own crazy magic tea. But it smelled like a citrus wake-up call, so…” He carefully set the mug down and rejoined Jackson on the bed. “This will be a little cold, hyung, but it helps with post-nightmare grogginess.” He dabbed the back of Jackson’s neck with one cloth, waiting until he adapted to the temperature before hanging it around his neck. He used the other damp cloth to gently cool his face down. 

 

Jackson watched him intently, drinking water whenever Bambam gave him the opportunity to. He was allowed his grudges against magic, but Jackson was relieved he wasn’t blaming them. He didn’t deserve to be the main target, not that Jackson wanted anyone to be a target for darker powers, but he just wished he understood  _ why _ . 

 

“Thanks for waking me up. How did you know I wasn’t going to attack you?” 

 

Bambam paused his bedside manners and sighed. “I didn’t know for sure.” He took away the bottle and worked on wiping Jackson’s hands. “I learned a lot about waking someone during nightmares because of Gyeomie, but even when I did everything right, he still sometimes lashed out during the initial shock. But the damage a nightmare can cause is worse than any damage he accidentally did to me.” He pouted his lips and shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t want to know what your magic could do if you weren’t consciously in control, so I took the chance.” Bambam collected himself again and moved to cooling down the other hand. “Anyway, thanks for not killing me, I guess.” 

 

Jackson chuckled and took his hands back just so he could lift the younger onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around his small waist and nuzzled into his chest. Bambam flailed awkwardly at the sideways position, but quickly stabilized himself with an arm over Jackson’s shoulders. “You wanna try the tea?” 

 

“Is it infused with magic?” Bambam groaned.

 

“Just a little magic,” he felt Bambam roll his eyes and head, “called vitamin c and caffeine, impatient dork.” Jackson poked at Bambam’s side until he screeched and surrendered. 

 

After Jackson tested it, Bambam cautiously tasted it and when nothing magical happened, he complimented the flavor, and they ended up drinking the cup together. 

 

“Did your nightmare mean something, anyway?” 

 

Jackson ran his hand soothingly over Bambam’s back and lightly patted his thigh with the other because it comforted himself. It was the only way to ground himself right now without falling back into the poisoned, cherry blossom path. 

 

“Yeah. I think I have to make new runes.” 

 

~*~

 

Mark always hated wandering different gem shops, but he also questioned why he always agreed to Jackson’s bribes and tagged along. It wasn’t like they had one particular shop they frequented because the collections changed and the general energy of the shop to the actual raw materials shifted over time. And with making new rune tiles from them, Jackson had to make damn sure the energy was positive and cooperative, and Mark was there to give his own opinions and  _ hunches _ , which most often were innate truths. 

 

While they aimlessly walked around, Jackson broached the serious topic they’d been avoiding since first climbing into the car together. “It’s Jaebeom hyung, isn’t it? When you guys fought that night, his aura changed, like he was trying to suppress something.” 

 

“The ring. He doesn’t want us to know, but he’s using it.” Mark ran his finger along a shelf, cringing at the dust he picked up. “I think his mark is resurfacing, too, or on the verge of it.” 

 

“That would explain my dream. And it means Youngjae isn’t likely to disappear.” 

 

“He wants to end this fucked cycle, but right now our only option is sacrificing one of them.” 

 

“Is that why Jinyoungie hasn’t called another strategy meaning? There’s literally no other way?” 

 

Mark shoved his hands into his sweatpant pockets and shrugged. “Well he hasn’t said that, but it’s my best guess.” 

 

Jackson groaned and kicked at the air. He was near flailing, catching an employee’s attention who suddenly began to watch them cautiously. “Why did I have to study languages instead of just being a knight,” he pouted more to himself. 

 

Mark stared the employee down while Jackson mindlessly perused each collection. “You literally bent your sword and melted the chainmail and declared to the entire kingdom that you could do more good as a scholar.” He slid an arm around Jackson’s waist. “You caused your own suffering, Gaga. Time to take responsibility, especially when it means helping an old witch stay sane.”  

 

“I don’t think there’s anything here for him.” He sighed dejectedly, but Mark agreed and reassured him it wasn’t rude to leave without purchasing anything. The store was musty anyway, and if no one put care into dusting and cleaning up once in awhile, none of the rocks and gems there would have been useful and pure. 

 

Jackson thought one of the pricier shops would be willing to help them out, or at least have a caring atmosphere. However, as soon as they entered, the woman judged their more casual attire and whispered to her coworker about not letting them wander alone. His partner didn’t care at all, or didn’t notice, and eyed pieces in the corner reserved for uniquely polished and stylized crystals. It also meant they were the high ticket items, and the coworker observed them as potential thieves instead of greeting them with customer service. 

 

Mark would have understood the behavior if either of them were constantly touching the stones that clearly stated to seek an employee, or if they had split apart as a distraction, but Jackson was really only examining from afar and getting an idea of their energy without laying a finger on the shelves they were displayed on. And Mark didn’t handle false accusations well. 

 

He dug out his wallet and slipped the black credit card out, nudging Jackson’s arm. “Let’s just go to that shop past Jooheon’s. If he recommended it, probably means they’re at least humble and friendly.” 

 

“He said they don’t always have variety, though.” 

 

“But if you find something that will work,” Mark flashed Jackson the card, and glanced over to see the coworker take notice, “we can buy the whole stock. Keep the extras with your herbs until you need them?” 

 

The coworker finally approached them with the fakest grin, clasping her hands together against her skirt and slightly bowing. “Was there anything you were interested in? The black amethyst, maybe? Or the jade? It was mined from an extremely rare location--” 

 

Mark held his palm up to stop her and curtly smiled. “Just a business card will do. We’re weighing our options.” 

 

“Of course, just one moment.” She disappeared to find a business card from the counter and politely handed it to Mark. 

 

He was sure to look at her nametag, and asked again for the name of the woman in the front. After he took care of business and had it mind to report their discriminatory silence, he realized Jackson was still gooey over the fact that Mark had actually taken the black card from his wallet. He didn’t like to be careless with money, even though he had some means to be, so it was rare when he even remembered he owned a limitless credit account. 

 

Jackson hugged his arm and looked up at him with wide, puppy eyes. Mark, for once, let him have his way. “Fine, I’ll buy you something nice from the rich mall next door. We need a new couch, anyway.” He slowly walked away from the fancy corner, Jackson not releasing his arm and making it even more difficult to leave. 

 

“I love having a rich daddy.” 

 

The coworker obviously overheard and covered her mouth and turned away as they passed. “If I’m the daddy, why am I always doing things for  _ you _ ? Why aren’t you a good baby boy who does things for me?” 

 

“I’m the good baby boy that lets you fuck me. Isn’t that enough?” Jackson pouted. 

 

The employee at the front gasped and blushed, covering her face as she bowed and stuttered for them to have a nice day. 

 

“You bribed me with food, anyway. Food and fucking, the best way a baby boy could repay me.” 

 

Jackson stole the card and cherished it, following wherever Mark led. “I will so repay you, Mark. I’ll make the spending worth it.” 

 

Mark threaded his fingers into Jackson’s hair and he leaned back into the touch, still relying on Mark to guide him safely out and over to the main mall. “You always do.” 

 

They went off to stress shop and drive around to finish errands, Jackson stealing kisses when no one was looking and by the time they got home with luxury brands and bags of gems and stones, and a new couch ordered, it was well into the nighttime hours. Jackson kept his promise and cooked their dinner and served calming tea because underneath their flirting game, they were both wrought with nerves for what chaos new runes would bring and how the shifting power would really affect them this time. 

 

Neither of them were good at dealing with unknowns, and especially when Mark couldn’t even make a guess as to how to narrow down the possibilities. The tea helped up to a certain point, and Jackson seemed to fall asleep as soon as he laid down in bed, but Mark mentally lined up their outcomes from most cliche to least likely, and he wasn’t aware of when he finally drifted into a rough sleep. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Yugyeom’s muscles ached for movement even though he had been walking around nearly all morning. He stretched his legs as he cooked his breakfast, tended to some of Jackson’s kitchen plants because they were either screaming for more water or in need of general pruning and attention. He only paused a moment to question how he knew what he was doing before he quickly finished up and sat in the living room to read the books he had saved into his camera roll. But it wasn’t long before he was restless, deciding to uselessly tidy up an already tidy living space. 

 

His body temperature felt higher than usual, so Jackson found him shirtless, irritated by the dining table for not moving the way he wanted. 

 

The shorter blonde put his hands on his hips and sighed, shaking his head. “I want to regret that tattoo, but it’s obvious  _ something  _ is happening and you just don’t know how to deal with it.” He motioned for Yugyeom to just leave the table alone and follow him down the witching hall. 

 

They entered Jackson’s small stock room and he quickly set up a workstation, laying a cloth over the desk and placing a hammer beside it, along with a pestle and mortar. He took out a couple bags from a cabinet; one was filled with raw rubies, and the other contained pieces of jade. 

 

“Did you steal these? Precious stones aren’t ever marketed imperfected, are they?” 

 

“Gotta know where to look. We paid hard cash for this, so pay attention. If you mess this up, I won’t be responsible when Mark hyung decapitates you.” Jackson let him sit in the chair and he massaged his shoulders first to ease any tension he could, and then he reached for a ruby and the hammer. “Find the weak spot,” he instructed, turning the stone to its thinnest point, “then slowly tap until it cracks apart.” 

 

“ _ Why _ ,” Yugyeom screeched, more than offended. “Hyung, that was like watching someone burn up money!” 

 

“You need something to do, we need ruby dust--it’s perfect, Gyeomie.” Jackson ruffled the younger’s hair. “Anyway, when they’re small enough pieces, throw them into here and crush them literally to dust. You can handle it, right?” 

 

Yugyeom really thought he could, but once he filled the mortar and attempted to grind the ruby pieces, he found he simply wasn’t strong enough to completely annihilate them to the fine dust Jackson was looking for. He did his best, and after an hour he was sweating, irritated, and not even a fourth of the way through the bag. He hadn’t even noticed that Jackson had taken a seat at another desk to work on the jade, the witch of course nearing the bottom of the bag. 

 

“Hyung, can I stop? My arm might fall off.” 

 

Jackson glanced over to his ugly workstation and softly smiled. “Wow, you did more than I thought. I know it’s hard, but you did good, Gyeomie.” 

 

He felt his ears get hot. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll just take a quick break and finish up.” 

 

“Nah, it’s okay. You’re less restless. That’s all I wanted.” 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t just leave like that, so he walked over and hugged Jackson, a smidge of worry crawling under his skin. “Anything you need?” 

 

“I’m fine, just go do your thing.” Jackson cutely kissed and patted his arm before Yugyeom pulled away and slid a bottle of water closer to him, and left the room. 

 

He was still restless, but it was unfortunately, as always, of the curious variety. He couldn’t think of any recipe off-hand that needed ruby and jade dust. He knew of the charmed liquor infused with ruby or jade energy, the stones left in the bottles as everything fermented, but it didn’t require hammers or mortar and pestle. 

 

Yugyeom immediately stepped down to the library and searched through the aisles until he found the small recipe books, Jaebeom also perusing the section. He was relying on the covers to find what he was looking for rather than the titles. Yugyeom quietly stood shoulder to shoulder with him, and eyed the spines for anything that shouted recipes with ruby dust. 

 

It seemed like a while since their last conversation, even their last cuddle session, and logically Yugyeom knew it was mostly out of their control. It wasn’t like their schedules constantly lined up, or that they were avoiding each other--it more or less happened that way. But even after talking through everything, Yugyeom couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. He still held onto his blame, and sometimes believed he’d have to be the one to fix Youngjae, even when it was such an impossible task for the coven, let alone one human trying to harness magic for himself. 

 

“You’re overwhelmed,” Jaebeom casually stated, not even looking up from his page. 

 

“No! I’m just...thinking.” 

 

“Well, turn the volume down, then. It is a library after all,” Jaebeom teased. 

 

Yugyeom held back a smile and silently took a faded purple book off a higher shelf, and Jaebeom closed his own book, catching his wrist. “What? Is this book forbidden?” 

 

“I need that one with the cracked leather,” Jaebeom gestured with his current book to another one on an even higher shelf. 

 

Yugyeom sighed. “Don’t libraries have stepping stools for that?” 

 

“Yeah, we have one. Its name is Kim Yugyeom.” 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t allow himself to be used and insulted like this. “I think he quit because he wasn’t getting  _ paid _ enough to deal with this bullshit.” For some reason, he bravely leaned closer to Jaebeom’s face, spurring him on for a verbal war. “Heard his employer was a real asshole at times. Good luck finding a new one, though” Yugyeom said lowering his voice. He straightened and meant to walk over to one of the chairs in the back of the library, but Jaebeom stopped him with a spine against his throat, backing him against the shelves. 

 

“You got into trouble first, and I need a particular recipe that is inside that particular book. I thought we were past this.” 

 

Yugyeom debated a comeback, but realized something so fast that his head spun. He grasped the book and pushed it enough off his neck so he could speak comfortably. “Hyung, listen to me.” 

 

“ _ You  _ listen,” he growled. 

 

Yugyeom’s arm was still sore, but he grit his teeth and backed Jaebeom against the other shelves and slammed the book onto one of them. Jaebeom wasn’t scared, but he stayed silent. “What’s your mindset right now?” 

 

“That’s a fucked question, don’t you think?” 

 

Yugyeom desperately grabbed his hands. “I mean it, hyung. What’s in your head? Besides your recipe.” 

 

Jaebeom must have connected the dots when real physical contact came into play. “Oh.” 

 

“You don’t have to give details, but it’s not good, right?” 

 

Jaebeom hung his head. 

 

It was pretty much a given that no one had positive thoughts right now, but Yugyeom gathered Jaebeom was still worse off than the rest of them combined. And Yugyeom was beginning to believe he wasn’t ever meant to have a chance at saving the lives of his friends. He was stuck with reading emotions for the rest of his forced magical life. “All I have is more fucking empathy,” he mumbled to himself. 

 

He leaned on his toes and brought down the cracked, leather bound journal Jaebeom had pointed to. “Sorry, hyung.” He left it on a shelf Jaebeom could reach and wandered down the aisle with his purple bound recipes, not even bothering to sit by the fireplace as he flipped through it. 

 

Some of them were about shaping stones and tiles, which liquid ingredients to use besides water to sharpen and polish for the right reasons, and then he flipped to a page with the shortest ingredients list, but a longer, detailed instruction. The guide assumed the user owned tiles made either of other stones, clay, or glass, and instructed more on how to make an ink and engrave the tiles so the ink set in properly. As he read on, he realized it was for a variety of things, but in this house was likely going to be used for runes. 

 

Yugyeom worried making runes, or even retouching the ones Jackson owned would tear apart the entire house. 

 

Jaebeom cleared his throat and settled beside him. “Is that really what your tattoo’s doing?” 

 

“Just touch it like Jinyoung hyung does. I’m sure you’re better at reading what it’s capable of.” He didn’t mean to scoff, but it happened and he stuck to his reading to avoid embarrassment. 

 

“Do you want me to touch it?” Jaebeom quirked an eyebrow. 

 

Yugyeom had no idea where that would lead, so he switched topics. “What recipe were you looking for?” 

 

“Something from the other realm, but it uses perfectly normal ingredients. Mostly.” Jaebeom held it out for Yugyeom to glance at. “It’s edible. No magic effects.” 

 

Yugyeom was eager to try it just from the fact that it had rose in the name, and he’d convince Bambam to eat it, too. He knew roses had purified him before, so maybe whatever this was would prevent the next attack. But Yugyeom couldn’t let Jaebeom into the kitchen without telling him what else was happening, so he showed his own page. “They’re gonna make rune ink. And maybe runes.” 

 

“What else is new.” Jaebeom carefully folded the journal closed. “Oh well, better off having us all in the kitchen.” 

 

“Will we live?” 

 

“Unfortunately,” Jaebeom said. He hit Yugyeom’s shoulder so he’d move forward. “Let’s go.” 

 

Yugyeom turned to face him. “Hyung, I won’t start a battle on purpose. I didn’t think that would happen.” 

 

Jaebeom sighed, surrendering to whatever thought was in his head and he reached forward, slowly touching his fingertips to Yugyeom’s side, lightly tracing the design. It wasn’t bleeding or scarred or scabbed, but Yugyeom was sensitive to it just as much. His brain screamed to collapse and whimper, but he squeezed Jaebeom’s arm instead to stay upright and somewhat grounded. The witch found his reaction fascinating, moving his whole palm over the tattoo. It was warm and soothing and a touch that if left long enough, Yugyeom would eventually beg to come in the library. 

 

“I’m gonna test something before I let go. Is that okay?” 

 

“Sure, hyung,” his voice trembled. They locked eyes and Jaebeom silently warned for him not to glance away. Yugyeom initially thought he could only grasp the constant underlying emotions, like Jackson being worried or Jaebeom’s internal need to guilt trip and blame himself for everything that went wrong, but he noticed a shift, almost on a color and temperature spectrum. He wasn’t hot, and he wasn’t red with anger, but it stayed at that cozy level of warm and the color on his mind was more of an amber with pink undertones. It wasn’t the feeling of home, but it was a desperate want to be somewhere that felt safe and welcoming. 

 

And once Yugyeom worked through the feeling, he acted on his urge to hug the older witch, cradle him like they had on the couch. Jaebeom sought a way out of his unbalanced darkness, and right now, he projected it onto Yugyeom, remembering how he felt being completely hidden in his taller frame. 

 

“You passed.” 

 

“Empathy won’t save anyone, though,” Yugyeom said. 

 

Jaebeom stepped away from the hug, still curling his fingers around Yugyeom’s waist. “It’s a double edged sword, Yugyeom. You matched my anger earlier, but just now you figured out what I needed. Your gemstone has done it, and your rune has enhanced it, but it’s also more unstable. Jackson might have to take serious time out to coach you. Unfiltered empathy could cause a major breakdown for you.” 

 

“Has it happened before? To others, I mean.” 

 

“In our realm, not so much, but here? All the time. And that’s not even enhanced empathy. Just imagine hearing everyone’s thoughts all at once and magnified by an expensive theatrical sound system, except it’s their emotions.” 

 

Yugyeom cringed and covered his ears just thinking about it. He’d end up in the hospital from a panic attack if it ever got that bad for him. He took Jaebeom’s advice seriously, and noted to discuss the details with Jackson. If they didn’t have time, he’d convince him to make him a rune tile with his dandelion design so he had somewhere to harness and focus the emotions and energy, as he did with the geode. 

 

For now, he was interested in the process of making Jaebeom’s rose dessert to lighten their moods. “I’ll be careful, hyung. But you should take the kitchen first before they do.” 

 

Jaebeom slightly dug his nails into the tattoo, smirking as Yugyeom finally whimpered and his knees buckled, but he didn’t fall to the floor. “I’ll still get you back later. If you help enough in the kitchen, I’ll go easy.” He scratched along the skin until his hand was completely off and he turned towards the stairs. 

 

Yugyeom took a moment to catch his breath and will himself not to get more turned on, and eventually his face cooled enough for him to return to the main floor, aiding Jaebeom in finding all of the ingredients and measuring tools for his rose pie. 

 

Jaebeom refused to say which part of the recipe required a witch’s hand, and the more Yugyeom pressed to know, even trying to read the directions for himself, the more Jaebeom teased him and pushed him away by either touching his tattoo, or literally trying to bite him. Yugyeom was willing to have a bite mark if it meant he’d know the secret to this dessert, but the journal always closed with the flick of Jaebeom’s fingers. 

 

“Stop flirting and fuck already. It’s not like the kitchen’s off limits,” Mark said, surprising them both. He set four, smaller, nondescript mason jars on the counter beside Yugyeom’s elbow. They were filled with a mostly clear substance, but the consistency seemed thicker than water. 

 

“What’s flirting,” Jaebeom scoffed, keeping to himself and picking the white and pink rose petals out of his pie mixture. 

 

Mark chuckled and stepped in close to side hug him. “Our kitten’s so cute,” he nuzzled against Jaebeom’s shoulder. “Better make enough of this for everyone. It’s been awhile.” 

 

“I’m making two. One just for me, and the other for you guys to fight over.” 

 

“That’s the leader we know,” Mark happily teased, tugging on his arm. He quickly kissed Jaebeom’s cheek and laughed to himself before turning his attention to Yugyeom. “I gotta get something for Jackson outside, but give Jaebeommie a lot of kisses while he bakes.” 

 

“Hyung,” Jaebeom warned, but Mark shrugged and disappeared out the front door. 

 

“Should I kiss you every time you poke my tattoo, hyung?” 

 

Jaebeom pointed a fork at him and narrowed his gaze. “Do it and I’ll bake you instead.” 

 

“So that’s your kink,” Yugyeom nodded to himself. 

 

Jaebeom lunged forward with a curse on his tongue, but Jackson came into the kitchen and the action died where it began. He took in the scene, obviously amused by the playful atmosphere. “Well, this is new.” 

 

“Yeah, me in the kitchen. It’s so novel,” Jaebeom rolled his eyes. 

 

Jackson smirked like he figured out a secret. “Anyway, Gyeomie, I have another favor.” He set two bowls next to the jars. “I have to help Mark hyung. Can you mix these? It’s two jars of each, and I know it seems like a lot, but the smaller amounts will make the mixing go faster.” 

 

Yugyeom saw it was the ruby and jade dust, and figured this was as good of a chance as any to help himself. “Can you make me a rune tile?” 

 

Jackson cocked his head. “So you found out.” 

 

“You should hear him out, Jackson-ah.” 

 

The blonde folded his arms and dropped his mocking stance. “Wow, serious. Okay.” 

 

Yugyeom sighed and gathered his courage. “This,” he pointed to his tattoo. “It’s empathy based.” Yugyeom apologetically glanced at Jaebeom, who had already returned to his pie making. “Maybe if I have something small, like using a rune tile for its physical totem, I might control it easier. Before it gets me in too much trouble.” 

 

Jackson stared at the inked design as if he could see through it. He blinked slow and calculated and slid his gaze up to Yugyeom’s. “Even the physical engravings have their consequences. Just like your geode and like the tattoo, the tile decides to accept or reject the emotions you transfer in, or try to project outwards. The character itself, although by the book, might have other side effects and behaviors as an unprotected item. Think you could keep track of it?” 

 

Yugyeom knew no amount of reading would aid him in commanding a rune for himself. He recognized the characteristics and technicalities of the magic in his geometric dandelion tattoo, but journals and books never discussed the finite details because there were too many variables dependent upon the owner and the intended use. He wouldn’t be able to predict the effects of the tile, but he figured the pros outweighed the risks. “Just teach me how to connect with it. I still meditate with the geode, so whatever I have to do, hyung.” 

 

Jackson took a moment to make his final decision, but eventually he reached up to ruffle Yugyeom’s hair and settled his hand over his cheek. “I have the right to borrow it, confiscate it, or destroy it at any time. I can make it with you in mind, but it will still technically belong to me.” 

 

Jaebeom clinked his fork on the counter. “You know he should have ownership of it if you want to give him a proper chance. Either split it, or have him sign his name with you as the sponsor, so you can overrule him.” 

 

Jackson put his hands on his hips and dropped his head. “Okay, fine. It’ll be yours, but I have full rights to take it away.” 

 

“That’s a fair condition. Thanks, hyung.” 

 

“Just make sure to mix the ink. It should thicken up as you stir it together, so don’t freak out if you can’t mix it anymore.” 

 

“Got it.” 

 

Jackson mumbled to himself as he went outside to track down Mark. Yugyeom opened one jar and got to work, dumping half of the ruby dust into the syrup. He didn’t know what to use to mix it and he was going to open the drawer for a spoon, but Jaebeom held out a pair of chopsticks. “These are only for the ruby ink. When you move to the jade, let me know.” 

 

Yugyeom gratefully accepted them and carefully started swirling the mixture together. At first it just resembled some kind of peppermint candy, but the longer he mixed it the more the dust colored the syrup and and seemed to change the consistency to that of a liquid concrete without enough water. He kept a slow pace, checking with Jaebeom so he didn’t overmix. Once it was the right shade and consistency, he did the other jar of ruby ink on his own. 

 

Jaebeom carefully moved his pie crusts from the wire rack on the island to the stove, evenly dividing the petaless mixture into the two pans. They were deeper than a regular pie pan, reminding Yugyeom more of the ones used for meringue pie or a cheesecake. Jaebeom then watched him, waiting for the oven to fully preheat. 

 

“Wanna help, hyung?” 

 

“I don’t think that’s safe.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

He finished the second ruby ink in silence and he exchanged his pair of chopsticks for the jade ones. He used the same method, mixing one jar at a time, keeping track of how the color and consistency changed. He hated his curiosity because it tended to hurt everyone else, but there were just some things that he couldn’t just wonder about, so he nervously tapped the chopsticks against the bottom of the jar, losing his courage to even face Jaebeom. 

 

“Can runes be corrupted, too?” He wasn’t going to ask if that was why Jaebeom was afraid to touch the jars, if his magic could influence the outcome, because by now it was a given that any magic influenced the final products. And he did have pride in respecting the coven enough to keep their obvious downfalls out of his mouth. 

 

Jaebeom clenched his jaw and set the pies in the oven, closing the door harder than necessary. “Runes accept and reject power, decide who has the the strongest presence and provide insight and aid as they see fit. Even Jackson’s lost to them, so make damn sure you know where your tile is at all times. Or better yet, don’t let anyone else besides us know you have it.” 

 

“What happens when the rune listens to someone else?” 

 

“Risk it and find out for yourself.” 

 

It was better that he didn’t. 

 

Just as Yugyeom finished the second jar of jade ink, Mark and Jackson returned with two square baskets full of ceramic pieces, vaguely rectangular and the edges peeking out didn’t appear to be smooth. Jackson had traces of smoke on his cheek and nose, and Mark looked like he was literally wishing he could murder his younger partner in crime. 

 

“I  _ told  _ you to go easy, and you didn’t, and now  _ look  _ at them! It would’ve been the fucking same if we just hacked up a sidewalk!” 

 

“Not my fault that there was another energy surge! This realm never signed up for us, and we don’t have  _ time  _ to make perfectly shaped tiles. We can just use the jagged edges as its own weapon.” 

 

Mark wasn’t amused by the idea. He stole Jackson’s container and ordered Jackson to get the rest of his tools while he did his best to magically sand and smooth the tile edges. Jaebeom and Yugyeom still kept to the kitchen, but peered around the dividing wall. Jackson entered the living room again, holding a variety of supplies. Some resembled exacto knives, but had thinner and longer handles, all varying shades of natural wood. There were two brushes: one angled and one with an artistic pointed tip, both handles polished at the ends with gold detailing. 

 

At first glance, everything seemed normal and from the arts and crafts section of anyone’s local mart or grocery store, but a second look definitely revealed abnormalities. 

 

Mark placed the last, smoothed tile into the basket, sweating and in need of more than just a nap, and he communicated minimally with Jackson while they created the set for engraving new runes. They had representations of the main four elements--a low burning candle, a shallow stone bowl of water, the air around them, and Jackson brought out of one of his smaller succulents to represent the earth. 

 

The front door rattled and opened, and Yugyeom and Jaebeom both took a step forward in case Jinyoung and Bambam were injured from their service call, but Yugyeom died inside even before it fully opened. Because that stature and fabric of clothing most certainly did not belong to either of his friends. 

 

It belonged to his  _ mother _ . 

 

“Hyung.  _ Hyung _ , we’re in trouble,” he whispered to Jaebeom. And then he remembered he had never put on another shirt, so he ran over to the one he had taken off before his whirlwind of a day began and messily threw it on. 

 

“Surprise!” His mother smiled, carrying a tote in one hand and a styled bouquet in the other. “I meant to swing by last month, but the time got away from me,” she chuckled awkwardly. 

 

Jackson’s eyes widened and he was outwardly panicking, glancing from Jaebeom and Yugyeom to Mark, rinse and repeat. 

 

“Oh! What game is this,” Mrs. Kim walked towards the rune magic setup. 

 

“It’s not,” Mark deadpanned. 

 

Yugyeom found the courage to intervene, eagerly greeting his mom and offering to show her into the kitchen to see what she brought over. The bag had containers of some of Yugyeom’s favorite dishes, both to go in the fridge and freezer. He tried to unpack it and save Jaebeom the headache of having a conversation with her, but she studied the state of the kitchen and saw the jars of ink, the oven timer counting down, and dirty bowls that had been used to mix batter. 

 

She happily clasped her hands together. “Are you making a cake? This frosting looks  _ divine _ .” She reached a finger towards a ruby jar, and luckily Yugyeom stopped her from touching the substance. 

 

Yugyeom was already debating moving into a studio apartment so his mother could randomly show up in peace. “That’s, um, paint. Mark hyung and Jackson hyung are painting.” He signaled to Jaebeom to get them to move the rune making to another part of the house, and he’d keep his mother distracted long enough. “They’re trying to find new hobbies and thought painting rocks was a good way to relax. Painting without pressure, you know,” he nervously laughed and combed his hair away from his forehead. “It’s kind of a homemade paint, and I was here, so I just mixed it for them. But anyway, what brings you over?” 

 

“Do I need a reason to check on my son?” 

 

“Sorry, Youngjae hyung doesn’t live here anymore.” Yugyeom meant it as a joke, but it sounded bitter and left acid crawling up his throat. 

 

His mother hit him anyway for being so stupid. “I leave him food, too. Can’t tell if he’s eating it, but I get my containers back.” 

 

Yugyeom wanted to keep excusing it away, saying Youngjae was awfully sick, or just going through some things and he’d be better soon, but that was a lie he wouldn’t give even if it meant keeping his life. So, he slid it under the rug and hoped she wouldn’t dig it back out. “I’m still alive, mom. School’s fine, staying here is...well, never a dull moment.” 

 

Jaebeom gave the all clear, but he also threatened Yugyeom, moving his hand across his neck as a warning. It’s not like he’d be murdered in front of his mother, so Yugyeom just stuck his tongue out in response. 

 

His mom turned to see Jaebeom, and then she tsked and hit Yugyeom again. “That fine young man is housing you, don’t pick elementary fights.” 

 

“ _ Ow _ , mom, I’m not! He picks on me first.” 

 

She sought confirmation, but Jaebeom disappointedly shook his head. Yugyeom imagined kicking him in the shin or pulling his hair until he went bald, and then he was interrupted by a very clear energy shift, one his mother wasn’t likely privy to, but one he couldn’t ignore. It snaked under his tattoo, making it burn and sting until he clutched his side and used the edge of the island to stay upright. His mother immediately worried over him, and he could already hear Jackson’s screaming plant announcing to the world there was magic brewing through the floorboards. 

 

“Just sit him in one of the dining chairs, Mrs. Kim. I have to shut off that  _ silly  _ alarm.” Jaebeom’s jaw was clenched and he disappeared, either to silence it for now or silence it for good. Yugyeom honestly didn’t want to know.

 

His mother helped him stumble into the dining area. When he was seated, closing his eyes to focus on a breathing exercise, he told her he had just eaten too much and was a bit constipated, but he was already taking supplements for it, and it’d go away soon. He wasn’t sick, he didn’t have an infection, and he wasn’t injured anywhere. He reassured her over and over again until his head hit the table in frustration because she didn’t believe him. 

 

The screeching stopped and Jaebeom plastered on a fake smile. “Yugyeom-ah,” he fondly said, and Yugyeom never needed to hear his name called like that. Jaebeom walked over and placed one hand over the younger’s shoulder, the other hovering near his tattoo. He silently spoke between the lines, communicating with his eyes, spreading cold where his hands were. “When you feel better, can you bring Jackson and Mark hyung their paints? I think they need those colors.” 

 

Somehow, Jaebeom was numbing his pain. Not all the way, and not enough to take away the stinging, but he’d be fine to traverse the hall and collapse onto the living room couch after. Yugyeom nodded, unable to ask anything about what he was doing or how. He simply accepted the situation and pretended to come out of his pain over a few minutes. 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t stand on his own, but he was able to keep his balance and walk without anyone, so he gathered the jars in his arms and padded into the left hall, and hoped his mother didn’t ask any questions that demanded the right answers. 

  
  


*

  
  


Jaebeom was ready to fold himself into the oven and bake endlessly until the entire property exploded. But currently, that wasn’t even at the bottom of his options, and he silently thanked the timer for incessantly beeping. It gave him a reason to escape the tense atmosphere, and put both their attentions elsewhere. 

 

“So, you really are baking.” 

 

It seemed more of an attack than an inquiry. At least having been banned in this realm for centuries, Jaebeom had memorized every lie and half-truth, and easily filtered out any background information that was abnormal. He’d lie even with his mouth stitched up, but it didn’t stop him from being a little uncomfortable. “It’s a savory rose pie, subtle instead of something overly sweet and floral. The recipe is kind of a right of passage, but I don’t know which ancestor started the tradition.” 

 

That much was true. It was a recipe his mother had him make when he turned ten. It tested his patience and abilities, as well as his control because it wasn’t ever meant to be baked in an oven. He had stolen and memorized a multitude of royal deserts, but he always returned to this one, even when he thought he belonged by the king’s side. If he was craving it, maybe Youngjae was, too. 

 

Mrs. Kim didn’t ask about his family history. “It’s so hard to find satisfying deserts that aren’t half sugar. Mind if I try it?” 

 

Jaebeom berated himself for even losing his manners. Or never having them to begin with, he wasn’t sure which. “Oh, yes, of course. It has to cool, but if you take a seat on the couch, I’ll bring some tea?” 

 

She extended her gratitude and made herself at home in the living room. Jaebeom chaotically slipped the pies into the freezer and filled their kettle up with water, placing it on the stove. It wasn’t like he had ever properly hosted a guest, let alone a guest that happened to be a curious and worried parent, so despite being calm with the words he mechanically spit out, he was panicking. He brought down two mugs and missed the counter, but managed to control the speed until they slowly tapped against the floor, landing upright and unharmed. 

 

The kettle was already boiling and he poured the water over bags of chai, the spice pairing well with the soft floral notes of his desert. The outside of the freezer was suddenly foggy and holding onto condensation, so he opened it up, greeted by an intense numbingly cold smoke, and his pies were ready to cut and serve. He put them in the fridge instead to save them from hardening completely, and then carried the dishes out on a tray. He even kneeled on the floor as he transferred everything onto the coffee table. 

 

Yugyeom slumped into the living room looking a little worse for wear, but he was alive. The poor kid collapsed to the ground and leaned on Jaebeom for a physical anchor. “Before you worry, I’m fine, mom. I promise. Just lemme rest here before you drag me into a hospital, okay?” 

 

Mrs. Kim’s initial words died, and she changed her demeanor with a sigh. “I was only going to ask how your friend boiled the tea and froze the pie so fast. Jaebeom must have some kind of magic.” 

 

Jaebeom could practically hear Yugyeom’s pulse skyrocket in absolute horror and fear, but Jaebeom took pity and tapped his thigh reassuringly. He reacted like the joke it was supposed to be, giving an empty laugh and a decent grin. “If I were magic, I’d own a bakery business by now. Maybe it’d be a famous tourist spot just to see a wizard work.” 

 

If Jaebeom had the chance, he’d choose to not have any magic. 

 

Mrs. Kim laughed, and moved on to easier small talk and dissing her son, all while complimenting the flavors and texture of the pie. Yugyeom was subtly shivering and barely staying awake, so Jaebeom let him have a sip of his chai tea, and fed him a couple bites of the treat. It must have been good because Yugyeom’s muscles relaxed at once and he drifted into a deep nap. 

 

For a moment, Jaebeom forgot the boy’s mother was there, and he fondly ruffled Yugyeom’s hair and pressed the stress crease between his eyebrows and gently laid him on the floor. 

 

“I’m relieved, that you’ve taken to him so well.” 

 

“He’s a stubborn brat sometimes, but he works hard.” 

 

Mrs. Kim finished her piece of pie, and sipped on the rest of her tea. “There are things perhaps I’m not supposed to know, so I won’t ask the difficult questions. But if something happens, I’ll expect the truth.” She placed her hands over Jaebeom’s on the coffee table. “Not the entire story maybe, but the truth for what happened. If any of these boys are injured or hospitalized, tell me the  _ reason _ . You can even tell me if they’re not eating. Or when the time comes, explain why Youngjae barely leaves his apartment.” 

 

Jaebeom tried to curl his hands into fists, but she only held onto his hands. 

 

“Right now, it’s okay. He’s alive, so it’s okay, but I’m aware the issue is deeper than any stress or friendship break-up. I just hope one day you’ll trust me, or trust Yugyeom enough to tell me what I should know. I don’t want either of them to get worse.” 

 

It was far from the first time Jaebeom had encountered that desperation for the truth. They had even gained a couple reporters who tried following their activities to expose who they really were, but it didn’t end well and all the footage was lost, along with their careers. Nothing good ever came from humans knowing they were witches, and he wasn’t ready to be responsible for the life of someone’s parent.  He took it in stride, thinking that maybe if their tragic cycle ever stopped, if they didn’t have to live through another loop, maybe she could know certain aspects about what had gone on. Just not yet. 

 

But he was willing to side with her about Youngjae. “All of us want to help Youngjae, but there’s not much we can do.” He tapped his fork against the plate. “Mrs. Kim, you said you bring him food?” 

 

“Sometimes. The landlady usually delivers it, but a few times I’ve personally left it outside his door.” 

 

Jaebeom remembered when he made the pie in the royal kitchen, the chefs and servers gasping at the use of such common and cheap ingredients, but requiring a skill none of them had to recreate the recipe. Even the guards made to kill him when he personally served such a peasant level desert to the king, but he loved it so much he claimed the entire thing for himself. Jaebeom had to bake another one for Jinyoung and Jackson and Mark to try, a few other kitchen hands trying it for themselves. They kept pestering him to make more, but it wasn’t a sweet to be devoured every day. It was still his tradition, and he only made it when he felt like he was supposed to. 

 

The king agreed with that sentiment, but said that whether they were friend or foe, enemies or lovers, his rose desert was the perfect peace offering. The king had radiantly smiled, and kissed Jaebeom’s hand to show gratitude for sharing a piece of his heritage with the kingdom. 

 

His heritage was going to be a simple message, that Jaebeom was willing to talk and compromise before the boundaries were ruined for good. And if Youngjae took it as a threat, at least it would get him to show his face. 

 

“Could you deliver a piece of this to him for me? He’s probably craving it, too.” 

 

Mrs. Kim accepted it as progress, and promised to hand it to him, even if it meant breaking down his apartment door. Jaebeom pushed his thoughts of the consequences into the very dark, dusty corners of his mind and delicately wrapped up a good sized piece, using a little magic to keep the container cold enough until it was in Youngjae’s hands. 

 

Good or bad, Jaebeom just needed something to come of his decision. 

 

*

 

Bambam hadn’t ever thought about dying by flesh-eating monsters of the undead world, but in this graveyard, the odds of it seemed reasonable and likely. He was the one who decided to tag along with Jinyoung just so he could breathe fresh air and stretch his legs out, and the service call was categorized as a low level purification; Bambam wasn’t supposed to be collateral damage, but here he was with a literal group of ghouls dancing and lunging around him like he was a sacrificial bonfire. 

 

The graveyard had been too old and abandoned, filled with people who never carried on their family line, or whose family moved on to forget their great great ancestors ever had a story and a warning to pass on. The property wasn’t even a base for illegal activities, which left it to anyone willing to give it attention beyond the basic maintenance staff. And at the ends of every path were low sitting sculptures made of a dark green stone with water steadily flowing over top. 

 

They were stuck fighting off the ghouls until Jinyoung could find their source, and when the sun began to set, the fountain sculptures began to steal the lights from the stars and indirect streetlights, reflecting like flakes of gold. Bambam couldn’t hold his own anymore, and one ghoul with a disgustingly elongated torso and a hanging jaw with grey, rotting gums and sharp fangs all around instead of a relatively normal set of teeth finally broke their ritualistic circle, biting right into his cheek. 

 

He screamed for death to take him because he’d rather leave his friends behind than live with the excruciating pain and half a face. Even labeling it as pain was an understatement. It was a glacial rush of suffering without any numbing venom. He felt every sharp bone hook into his flesh and just as it tried to rip the chunk out, each ghoul growled and turned towards Jinyoung, vanishing into a small, wet, pocket mirror reflecting the same lights as the sculptures. Once he trapped them all, he violently threw the mirror to the ground, the glass popping out of the plastic casing from the force and landing on the concrete path in large chunks. Jinyoung fearlessly stomped on it until it resembled leftover shards of any type of glass container, and even without the ghouls being able to return, they had left their damage. 

 

Bambam scrambled to stand, but the best he could manage was flopping onto his stomach, hands barely holding him up off the ground. In the distance, he saw the scenery shift and roll like soft ocean waves, land to the sky slowly rippling. He thought he saw Youngjae standing in front of a seam, as if the landscape were merely a curtain, and he separated it with a wicked smirk, welcoming the mindless demons, wronged spirits, and every level of shadow into the human realm. The ground melted and trembled as they marched through the open gate, and Bambam deeply understood what it meant to be betrayed. 

 

Jinyoung managed to pull him into reality, and when he blinked, the vision was gone. “Bammie, there’s nothing there, okay? You’re okay, I swear. We have to get home.” 

 

“Hyung,” he clung to Jinyoung’s arm, nails digging in a little more than he meant to, “we’re in so much trouble.” He whined and tried to hold his face while he spoke, but it only made it worse. 

 

“Let’s at least get back to the car. It’ll ruin my reputation if you pass out again.” 

 

Bambam couldn’t argue. Jinyoung was already forcing him to stand and acted as a crutch so they could reach the car faster. He got Bambam in the passenger seat first and then climbed into the driver’s side, buckling faster than what Bambam could process, and then he turned to gently touch Bambam’s wounded cheek. He winced at the touch, shocked that he wasn’t crying by now from the deep throbbing and pinching sensation, but it eased into a dull pulsing. 

 

“It won’t last long, but hopefully it won’t wear off before we get home. Whatever you need to say, say it quickly. Keep your sentences short.” Jinyoung turned the engine, set into gear, and pulled easily onto the road. 

 

Bambam looked dead ahead, either emotionally numb or too afraid to face Jinyoung’s hurt expression. “I saw Youngjae hyung. He opened some kind of portal, and let the monsters in.” He noticed a cut on his wrist from rolling over a jagged rock and wrapped the edge of his shirt around it. “Hyung, I think he’s waging war soon. And I’m not sure if either side will survive.” 

 

“He’ll never have portal magic here. We have time, Bammie.” Jinyoung grit his teeth. “We still have time.” 

 

Saying it a second time didn’t make it sound any less like a lie. 

 

Bambam said nothing more, and Jinyoung broke speed limits to get home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) 
> 
> you can scream at me here if you'd like [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> or to anto she influenced some of this [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)


	5. Scene V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention last time but we have a gc on twt for this au if you wanna join in and share stuff or ask stuff or just like talk about it with us and others who like this story so go dm anto if youre interested or [like her tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to also be added
> 
> and now i present a chapter you have probably waited for since this book began

Youngjae successfully managed to avoid anyone and everyone besides his apartment manager, but he came back from walking Coco and saw Mrs. Kim waiting outside his door. It was late, and he hadn’t slept enough to deal with relatives of his new enemies, no matter how close they were before. He always ate the food she left, but only because he hated wandering through the streets and grocery store aisle ways, allowing his frustrations to build up from the smallest incidents and accidentally causing disasters; eating her food didn’t mean he ever wanted to hold an actual conversation with her.

 

But logically, he knew she wasn’t a part of this war, and nothing would come of punishing her. He straightened up and pushed his hair out of his eyes, and let Coco lead him closer. 

 

Mrs. Kim regarded him with pity and worry at first, but she quickly fixed her posture and pretended everything was still normal, as if she still thought of him as a son. “I’m supposed to lie to you and say I made this for you, but I’ve never brought you a dessert like this, so you’d know it’s a lie.” 

 

Youngjae gathered the excess of Coco’s leash in one hand so she wouldn’t keep jumping and running too far from his feet, and took the container with his other hand. He peered through the slightly frosted plastic, seeing a light pink slice of pie with minimal crust, the edge topped with a string of almonds. Mrs. Kim was right, he would have known she didn’t make it, and he hadn’t ever seen a treat like this at specialty bakeries. 

 

He already guessed who it was from, and he was willing to eat it only because he had the taste of rose on his tongue for days, and rose tea wasn’t soothing his craving, and no recipe he searched included a rose pie. Now he understood why. 

 

It was a recipe that belonged only to the coven. 

 

“I wish everyone were as honest as you, Mrs. Kim. Tell them I’ll enjoy it, and that they’ll see me soon.” 

 

Her face lit up with hope. “Are you feeling better, then? If you need notes for school, I’ll be happy to help since your brother is busy.” 

 

Youngjae hated to dislike her politeness. “It’s okay, I’ve managed to keep up online. But I think this dessert means they want to talk, and I’m ready to talk. We’ll work out our  _ misunderstanding _ .” He had to hold back a sneer because he couldn’t exactly tell her he used to be some all-powerful witch from another realm who sacrificed himself to avoid the worst level of betrayal, and that the coven were responsible for it, and that Yugyeom and Bambam weren’t exactly on his side from what he could tell. 

 

Or he didn’t want them to be. They were still living with the coven, and that was enough proof to regard them with malice. 

 

“Okay.” Mrs. Kim thankfully didn’t ask for anything more. “Well, it’s late, so I’ll let you and Coco go.” She walked away, but turned back to continue a deeper conversation, then she shook her head and fondly smiled. “Have a good sleep, Youngjae.” 

 

Youngjae wished it wasn’t awkward to call her mom and give her a hug, but he didn’t even know if he still was truly Youngjae. “Get home safe, Mrs. Kim. Thanks for the honest delivery.” 

 

She gently responded and stepped onto the elevator. 

 

Youngjae rummaged for his key and opened his apartment, taking Coco’s leash off as soon as he closed the door. As he went into the kitchen, there was a burning under his skin, like something was branding him on his back. It didn’t feel like a branding stamp, though, but like someone was cutting an intricate design with a scalpel. He nearly lost his footing--and the pie from the sudden intense agony, but he leaned his forehead against the cool wall and breathed evenly until he regained his balance. 

 

It wasn’t the first time random aches and pains clung to his back, but they were getting deeper and harder to ignore. It settled again into a duller twinge, like a needle tracing over the same design, and he continued into the kitchen and grabbed a fork, finally able to taste the treat. He examined the bite at the end of his fork, taking in the lighter floral scent, and how the shade of pink made it appear like a sugary addiction, but the sweetness easily faded on the tongue and became a neutral savory taste, especially when coupled with the nuttiness of the crust. 

 

It was exactly what he’d been craving. But as he slowly ate the slice, clips of memories rushed through his mind. 

 

He remembered his laughter echoing in a room of grandeur, using a napkin to wipe the crumbs off the corners of someone’s lips--Jaebeom’s lips. They had kissed because there wasn’t a time that had felt more like home, more like being exactly where he belonged. He heard the whispers of others asking for more of the dessert while scrutinizing their king for taking part in such a commoner’s recipe. 

 

He saw glimpses of the coven trying to secretly eat together in the hall between the kitchen and the serving room, thinking they wouldn't ever be caught. He remembered the irrational jealousy of never being served Jaebeom’s rare specialty again, left to wonder if he hadn’t done enough to humble himself in front of the man he was fated to bond with. 

 

And he saw his own hand throw an entire pie on the ground after hearing lies and empty apologies and the same voice begging for forgiveness, also pleading for him to understand there wasn’t anything to forgive. 

 

Youngjae felt a part of his soul fall in love, and then crash headfirst into a tragedy he’d never forget or escape from. 

 

A sharpness dug into his back once more while the glimpses of his soul’s past rolled on like an old film reel, clicking and glitching into a dark sepia as he whimpered and clenched his teeth. He broke into a sweat and felt around for anything physically harming his body, but the pain was coming from something invisible and untouchable. 

 

He sidled his way to the bathroom and carefully stripped out of his shirt, doing his best to turn his head to see the reflection of his back. There was an outline of cherry blossom branches extending from his right hip to his left shoulder, only parts of the branches shaded in. There were a few watercolor pink petals, but he could tell there was more of the tattoo resurfacing. He didn’t know if it connected to his power or his memories, or both, but he’d take it as a sign. 

 

Once the agonizing pain stopped and the mark appeared whole, Youngjae would face them again. 

 

As a witch realm king. 

 

~*~

 

It was the middle of the day when Yugyeom left an impromptu class with Jackson, learning the rules for respecting his personal rune tile. He could only handle so much information, meditation, and testing at one time and desperately left Jackson’s study because it was the only way he’d get a break. He needed proper nourishment and hydration if he was going to get through their next stages and have the focus to control his empathy. He wasn’t willing to wander campus receiving every student’s emotional thoughts, if that’s even how it was going to work. No one knew for sure what triggered him into receiving someone else’s current emotions. 

 

He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and loaded up a sandwich. He planned to eat at the table, but in the corner of his vision he saw Jaebeom laying on the new microfiber sectional, so he snuck into the living room and set his meal down on the coffee table. The witch was shirtless, joggers sitting below his hips, and he was laying on his stomach. He had his arms folded over each other to keep breathing space for his head, but Yugyeom still heard him moaning and gasping through his teeth, even as he slept. 

 

There were cherry blossom branches following the natural curves and lines of Jaebeom’s muscles, beginning at his left hip and reaching towards his right shoulder. The picture wasn’t yet complete, but it was getting there, and whatever that mark meant, it caused torture as it colored his back. If Yugyeom were a different person, he’d try to ease the pain first. His immediate thought would be to put his cold bottle on Jaebeom’s skin and roll it around to numb it on the surface. 

 

But Yugyeom had his petty sides, and it wasn’t something to always be proud of, but it was the only way he kept his world fair. He followed the sheen of sweat from Jaebeom’s neck to his shoulder blades, seeing his muscles pull together as he was partially waking up from the pain, and Yugyeom took the opportunity to poke one of the pink blossoms near his spine. 

 

Jaebeom sharply growled and hit his fist against the cushion. Yugyeom used his thumb and pressed into one of the growing branches, and the witch pushed himself into a kneeling position, throwing Yugyeom onto the cushion by his shirt collar before he even had time to breathe again. “I will fucking burn your rune tattoo off.” 

 

“You poked mine, hyung, so it’s fair I poke yours,” Yugyeom reasoned. He showed absolutely no fear because by now he knew Jaebeom wouldn’t ever kill him unless he tried to murder him first. Jaebeom just had a lot of history he hadn’t been able to process all the way, and it was obvious Jaebeom had a soft spot for cuddling with him when he wanted to feel invisible. 

 

“ _ Yours  _ didn’t restructure and rewrite your cells, dipshit.” Jaebeom heaved over his shoulder when another wave of agony racked around his spine. 

 

“Oh, is that what it’s doing?” Yugyeom played dumb and grasped his hip. “Your skin feels the same, hyung.” 

 

Jaebeom hissed and sunk his teeth into Yugyeom’s shoulder because it was the nearest bare skin he could reach. 

 

It was sharp and dizzying, but once the initial shock wore off, Yugyeom figured it wasn’t hurting as bad as what Jaebeom was going through.  He had been able to turn his own tattoo sufferings into a feeling of pride and pleasure, despite the aching symptoms, but the cherry blossom wasn’t a rune tattoo, so Yugyeom removed his hand and instead threaded his fingers through Jaebeom’s hair until he calmed down and took his mouth off Yugyeom’s shoulder. He rested his head in the crook of Yugyeom’s neck until the pain subsided. 

 

“Is there anyway to help? Does Jackson hyung have anything?” 

 

Jaebeom shook his head and weakly sat back on the cushion, being careful not to let his back touch the couch. “He’s too careful when it comes to going under the skin. Anything topical isn’t powerful enough, and teas won’t last long.” He rubbed his temples, exhausted and feverish from his constant torment. “I lived it once, but it fucking  _ hurts _ , Gyeom-ah. Better off just letting me deal with it.” 

 

“Were you alone when you first lived through it?” Yugyeom took his silence to mean he wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. “I won’t leave until I absolutely have to.” Yugyeom pulled the low table a little closer and slid his meal towards the edge. “Eat something, hyung.” He picked up half his sandwich and bit into it, hoping it would encourage Jaebeom. 

 

He went for the water first, but then ate the other half of the sandwich. The aches were returning as he ate, and when both of them had finished eating, Jaebeom clung to his pants so tightly Yugyeom worried he was going to ruin them. If there was nothing within their witchcraft to ease Jaebeom’s discomfort, Yugyeom was going to just have to use his powers of distraction. 

 

He kneeled in front of Jaebeom, folding their hands together and trying to look into his eyes. “Hyung, I have an idea, but you’ll have to let me touch your back. If it hurts, you can project it out and I’ll feel it, anyway--like a punishment for going too far. Is that okay?” 

 

Jaebeom lazily opened his eyes. “It won’t work.” 

 

“Maybe you’ve only been thinking of your witchcraft options. Non-magics like me have our tricks, too. Just let me try?” 

 

Begrudgingly, Jaebeom agreed. If anything, Yugyeom would be harmed in the trial process, which would make them even. He instructed Jaebeom to lay down on his stomach, and instead of resting his head near the arm of the couch as he did earlier, he laid down towards the corner of the sectional. It gave him more room to keep his groans and expressions to himself, and Yugyeom could tuck himself comfortably near the arm of the couch. 

 

Yugyeom took another bottle from the fridge, and filled a decent sized bowl with ice, returning quickly to the living room. He put the bowl within reach and sat on the edge of the couch in a way where he’d be able to reach all of Jaebeom’s back. He started testing the level of soreness and tenderness, running his fingers gently around the areas without ink. Jaebeom softly whimpered into the cushion, but didn’t attack. He slid closer to a couple of the petals, touching the skin more delicately. It radiated heat, like a wound fighting an existing infection, and Yugyeom sharply inhaled as Jaebeom hissed through his teeth and tried to hook his nails into the couch. 

 

The ice would probably melt far too fast to bring any sort of temporary relief, but Yugyeom had to try. “Okay hyung, if this makes it worse, feel free to murder me as much as you want.” He picked an ice cube from the bowl and kept all the corners away from his skin, gently skimming the flat side of the ice over the branch that bent towards his shoulder. It was practically vaporizing upon contact, but Jaebeom hadn’t rejected the feeling. His hands curled into loose fists and a small, relieved moan escaped his lips. The undertone was still laced with discomfort and struggle, but Yugyeom’s idea was currently working. 

 

When the cube melted, he reached for another one, continuing where he left off, while using his other hand to massage Jaebeom’s unmarked skin. He trailed ice over Jaebeom’s spine, towards the small of his back and when the ice hit the end of the cherry blossom at his hip, his emotions intensely twisted together, and all Yugyeom could understand from his projection was that he craved more. 

 

It hurt, and he hated to like it, but he needed to experience the sensation again. 

 

So, Yugyeom matched his emotional thoughts and melted another ice cube, circling it over the mark just at his hip, complicating things even more when he thought to lightly scratch Jaebeom’s bare hip at the same time. Jaebeom gasped and whined and rocked onto his knees, lifting his hips slightly in the air and stretching his arms in front of him. The position really reminded Yugyeom of how cats stretched, or their position before pouncing on prey. 

 

Yugyeom smiled and laughed to himself, keeping up with the ice treatment, but teasing the cold near his waistband, and pulling the elastic away from his skin to run it under his pants. Jaebeom lifted his hips more and kept his back low. “And you thought it wouldn’t work,” Yugyeom taunted. “But, you trusted me enough to try, and behavior like that should be rewarded. Don’t you think, hyung?” He slowly pulled Jaebeom’s pants down to his knees, playing his nails over his ass. He was more sensitive than Yugyeom believed he’d be, which meant he could have a lot more fun. 

 

“Yugyeom, dont--” 

 

The threat died when Yugyeom held an ice cube against each cheek, grinning as Jaebeom swore under his breath and couldn’t hold his head up anymore. Yugyeom let them melt the rest of the way in the middle, watching how the water went between Jaebeom’s ass cheeks. Yugyeom gave the ice play a break so he could run his hands over Jaebeom’s thighs and stomach, leaning over him without making contact with his back so he could comfortably reach around and pinch and tweak his nipples. Jaebeom grabbed onto one of Yugyeom’s arms and forced him to lose balance so his chest touched his back. 

 

Yugyeom didn’t trust his shirt to not irritate the resurfacing tattoo, so he tried not to move too much. He started grinding against Jaebeom’s ass and moved his hand up to rest just below Jaebeom’s neck. “What’s your reward, hyung? Whatever it is, you get to stay just like this. You show yourself off so well, hyung,” he spoke low against Jaebeom’s ear. 

 

He shivered and was quickly losing the strength to keep his hips--and Yugyeom--up off the couch, but he endured and answered. “Your tongue. Just fuck me up with your mouth, Gyeom. I don’t care how.” 

 

“You have no idea what this mouth can do,” Yugyeom smiled and pulled Jaebeom’s hair as he carefully sat up, Jaebeom cursing at how his shirt made his skin feel raw, but Yugyeom pointed out it was his fault, and then Jaebeom pouted and told him to carry on. 

 

As a precaution, Yugyeom took his shirt off, and left his pants on. He went back to massaging Jaebeom’s hips and extended the movements to curve over his ass, intermittently kissing the smooth skin, and nipping at the couple of moles he had there. He reached for more ice, all the edges of the cubes softened from sitting at room temperature. He tested the boundaries, putting it against Jaebeom’s ass hole, but nothing more. The witch keened and groaned into the couch, audibly begging for more. 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t say no when he was being so cooperative, especially since his distraction had gone farther than he anticipated, and was keeping both their minds off his etching pain. The next piece of ice he eased inside of Jaebeom, following it with the tip of his finger to shallowly fuck him with it until it all dissolved. Yugyeom faltered a second, realizing his face was heating up from being in tune with Jaebeom’s unabashed pleasure and desperation. He did his best to ignore it, leaning in to finally use his tongue, daring Jaebeom to amplify his emotional state again. 

 

He licked up, his warmth a sharp contrast to the ice before, and Jaebeom buried his face further into the corner. Yugyeom grabbed his hips so he wouldn’t crawl so far away, and repositioned his hips and back so he was perfectly on display. Jaebeom was a broad, defined canvas, and if he hadn’t had the cherry blossom mark, Yugyeom would have wanted to paint him like the dusk purple skies in Winter. Because Jaebeom was cold sometimes, but he also contained the feeling of overly long sleeves and hot coffee; of not being close enough even when they were pressed against each other. 

 

Jaebeom was a holiday, and Yugyeom planned to celebrate him. 

 

He didn’t stall any longer, and tentatively licked into Jaebeom’s hole. He kept a firm grip on his hips, and Jaebeom didn’t complain about the inked side. Yugyeom tongued in deeper, finding a rhythm between teasing and fucking. He closed his eyes and easily fell into the pattern, even lifting a hand up to gently spank Jaebeom’s ass. It was mainly just for fun, to see if he could get away with spanking the older, and he was surprised when he actually did. He hated unfairness, so he spanked the other cheek in the same fashion, and then reached around to Jaebeom’s dick. 

 

He was fully hard, leaking a bit of precum at the tip, but not enough to make a mess. Yugyeom came up for air to comfortably stroke Jaebeom’s cock, enjoying his muffled whimpers far too much. “You know, hyung, if you’re waiting for permission, I won’t give it to you.” He dared to press a kiss to the small of his back, as well as against one of the lighter pink blossoms. “You don’t need permission, hyung.” 

 

Jaebeom rested his cheek on the couch so his words were clear. “Just fucking make it happen, Gyeom. If I don’t hold onto the couch, I might shatter this room.” 

 

Yugyeom wanted to turn their session into something softer, convince Jaebeom to have a little more faith in himself, but he was experiencing first hand what it meant to not have control over something that was both a part of him, and outside of him. He’d be a hypocrite if he tried to hold a pep talk, so he took Jaebeom’s request seriously. 

 

With the angle and position, Yugyeom couldn’t keep fucking him with his mouth while touching his dick, so he settled on fluttering kisses over his ass, teasing his hole with what was left of the ice, just to add another sensation and tip Jaebeom onto the safe edge of overwhelmed. He rolled his thumb over the head of his cock on every up-stroke, and he only gripped tighter instead of changing his pace, and with a long, rumbling growl, Jaebeom rode out his orgasm, thrusting and trembling through it. Yugyeom awkwardly supported him and reached back to grab his shirt, using it to somewhat clean the cum off the new couch. The stain was probably going to be there until Mark did something about it, but at least Jaebeom wouldn’t lay down on it. He also did his best to clean off Jaebeom’s softening dick, patting between his ass and thighs to dry off any of the water from the ice that stayed around. Yugyeom pulled his sweatpants back up, keeping the waist just below his hips because the rawness was bound to come back, especially if there was fabric irritating the mark. 

 

Jaebeom groaned pushing himself to his knees, and shakily shuffled to face Yugyeom. He licked his lips and and tugged on Yugyeom’s pants, but Yugyeom held his hands and shook his head. “Next time.” 

 

“You can’t just jack off in the bathroom. It’s not right.” 

 

“I’m not gonna do that, either, hyung.” 

 

Jaebeom blinked and knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “What’re you gonna do?” 

 

Yugyeom was beside himself. Jaebeom was a great leader, and wildly intelligent when it came to longer term strategies, or last minute escape plans simply because he had no choice but to survive for his coven, but there were just times when he exuded naivete and stupidity. Jaebeom had forgotten why they started this whole thing, and Yugyeom chuckled to himself, resting one palm against Jaebeom’s face and playing with his hair with the other hand. He brought Jaebeom in for a kiss, the witch sighing and relaxing into it, opening his lips for a slightly more intimate kiss. It didn’t go any deeper, and didn’t hold any intense feelings, but invited warmth and calm into their bones, and when Yugyeom slowly ended the kiss, he noticed Jaebeom’s eyes were half-lidded and blinking slower. 

 

“Stupid hyung,” Yugyeom whispered fondly. “This is about you right now, and you need real sleep. Not stress or nightmare or suffering sleep. So I’m gonna stay here until you get some.” He made sure the witch wasn’t going to careen off the couch and break the floor, and barely managed to reach the water bottle on the table. “Drink a little more before we lay you down, okay, hyung?” 

 

Jaebeom listened a little too well, sipping the water until the bottle was empty. Yugyeom stood and guided Jaebeom to lay down on his stomach, however it was most comfortable for him, and he tucked both arms against the arm of the couch, and Yugyeom grabbed a small pillow for his head. He combed Jaebeom’s hair with his fingers, glad that his hair was black again instead of patchy grey and black. He kissed Jaebeom’s shoulder and bicep, listening for any discomfort. 

 

Jaebeom sleepily groaned only a few times, and Yugyeom eased the pain, flicking some of the cool water from the melted ice onto his back. He’d sigh and wiggle his hips as if he was trying to sink further into the couch cushions, and he drifted seamlessly to sleep. 

 

Yugyeom didn’t know what else his forced magic would bring, but he was finally able to help. If he could harness the behavior of his empathy, he’d be useful in fighting and healing. He imagined scenarios that were likely never to exist, and dug up pages of books logged in his brain to contemplate the differences between textbook rune magic and real rune magic. 

 

Yugyeom thought too loud, and continued to watch over Jaebeom as he peacefully rested. 

 

*

 

Jaebeom let his consciousness roam where it wanted, sometimes so deep in sleep his head ached, and other times lifting into the overcast brightness of the day. Jinyoung at one point accused Yugyeom of murder, and Jaebeom tried to wave his hand to show he was still breathing, but his limbs were like concrete blocks that had dried into the ground. He couldn’t lift them, and the rest of his body refused to listen. He managed to shift around once because his back was becoming stiff and it needed a break from laying exposed and flat, so he shuffled onto his side, but his back came in contact with the fabric of the couch. He was aware that he screamed, but he didn’t fully connect it with screaming out loud in reality. 

 

He was placed on his stomach with caring reassurance, and Jaebeom didn’t have the words to argue. He was restless and the fever burned through him again, the torment bubbling just beneath the surface and he prepared to elicit another sound of terror, but there was something soft tracing his mark. The feeling was too delicate and smooth to belong to a finger, and the strokes were as careful as if he were a painting in progress, and this was his last layer of shading before being complete. 

 

He sunk into the serenity of the rhythm, mentally counting the individual bristles tickling over the hot skin. He heard Youngjae’s voice--the king’s voice--detailing all the ways their lives had entwined, and everything it would mean for the future. Jaebeom wasn’t even supposed to meet him alone yet, but the king had requested privacy with him because he was going through the same torture, and even their phases of pain were at opposite intervals. 

 

The king had him lay on his bed, covered with the finest silk sheets that Jaebeom could never afford as a commoner, even if he worked five lifetimes over. But the king didn’t care about their social statuses because he’d have Jaebeom to share the magic of this realm with. He wanted them to rule it fairly, together, raise the kingdom up into a place of wonder and equality, as parents were supposed to raise their children. 

 

They had barely known each other, but the king was committed to him. He always laid Jaebeom out on his bed, shirtless, when the pain cycled through, and hummed the melody of star-crossed lovers who still loved for every eclipse and every solstice, materializing their desire as birds nesting in the trees, making sure their tragic devotion could become a safe haven and a home for others. The king would carefully pretend to paint the blossoms on Jaebeom’s back, saying they’d be a home for each other one day, and silently, Jaebeom had also painted away the king’s pain. 

 

Even if they tried to run, even if the entire kingdom was against sharing the responsibility with a half-blood from the rotting dead-end streets, the tattoos signifying their split power would always keep them whole. 

 

It was supposed to keep them whole.  

 

Jaebeom became too aware of the light and sounds filtering through, but the daylight hadn’t changed so much and he thought he slept just a few hours, but Jackson’s voice hushed him and said he slept for six _ teen  _ hours. Jaebeom processed sleeping through an entire day, plus some, but he was groggier than the thick morning fog of late Autumn, and no matter how many times he tried to rub his eyes awake, his vision wouldn’t stay clear and his head kept spinning anytime he moved. 

 

Jackson kept a hand on him when he groaned onto his side, making sure he didn’t fall against the couch again. He lightly pat Jaebeom’s face with a cool cloth, quietly judging him for something while explicitly worrying over him. He draped the cloth over his thigh and laced their fingers together. Jaebeom’s head and vision cleared a little, but he was left feeling like he still had glass embedded in his skin after a bad night of drinking. 

 

Jackson sighed and rested his hands in his lap. He fidgeted with the seam of the cloth and slightly bounced his leg. “Hyung, I made your rune for a  _ reason _ . You know, I know,  _ they  _ know that your ring isn’t enough. Everyone needed one, even Bambam because it doubles as a protection totem, and a connection to us.” He dug the item out from his pocket and turned it around and around between his fingers. “Even if you just keep it in your pocket, I’ll be grateful.” 

 

It was terribly unfair that Jaebeom didn’t have the energy to run away from this discussion. He had kept his ring only out of fear of himself. His energy was already infused with the accessory, but even wearing it made him feel defeated. All the control and progress he had made was ripped away in such a small amount of time, but he should fight the imbalance better and keep his precision. But the power of a king and the upset of Nature wouldn’t ever allow Jaebeom to reclaim his control. 

 

“I’m doing fine, Jackson. My ring is decent enough.” 

 

Jackson brought up a picture on his phone of a large tree that had been cut down in their front yard, the branches landing just shy of their car bumper. 

 

“Could’ve been the wind.” 

 

The blonde shook his head and made Jaebeom watch a short, local news clip about a power outage from telephone poles that were mysteriously knocked over in the middle of the night. “And don’t even try to say it wasn’t you. Even Greg was so terrified of the energy you sent out that she hasn’t screeched one word today. How is she supposed to blossom if we scare her?” 

 

Jaebeom crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He knew he fucked up on a couple of service calls, and maybe scared Nora away a few times, too, and in general, his aura and moods were off-kilter, but he was doing fine! He hadn’t murdered anyone or revealed his witchcraft to the world. It wasn’t like he was going to go off, hell-bent on destroying part of this realm because he couldn’t reach Youngjae. He was making things work, even if his magic wasn’t. 

 

But he was nostalgic for the days before he was a traitor, for the days he wandered the markets with Jinyoung in disguise and always found a childhood delicacy, or handmade decorations and accessories to bring back for the king. He missed watching Jackson make him laugh in a secret lesson Jaebeom would never hear. He missed being by the king’s side and defending his position and his life, explaining the hardships of his decisions when someone else wanted to rant and rage to change the outcome. 

 

Jaebeom almost had a modern version of that life, but he couldn’t prove his innocence then, and he definitely couldn’t prove it now. 

 

“Jaebeom, look, we can’t lose you again. If you fall apart, we all will. There’d be no one to stop your guilt and frustrations from turning into a destructive force because we’d be unpredictable, too.” Jackson paused, resting his hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder. “We’d kill each other, and right now, that’s what helps Youngjae sleep at night.” 

 

Jaebeom partially opened his eyes but kept his gaze on the dead space between the coffee table and the television. His stomach twisted remembering how Youngjae had wanted to rile him up so badly during sex that he’d tear the house apart. He was poisoning himself with guilt, and criticising himself for still overlooking the obvious signs that Youngjae was the king’s soul. He didn’t want Jaebeom to die, but he wanted him suffering and begging to die. 

 

Jaebeom expected to lash out, but his chest heaved and he released a long, shaky exhale and his eyes started to ache and burn. 

 

“It’s a lot, Jaebeom. That’s why I’m not asking you to actively use it, but just carry it on you.” Jackson held the special rune in front of his face, and Jaebeom decided to examine the details. 

 

He hadn’t given it a proper look before when Jackson first gave it to him. It was cut in a triangular shape, from natural wood that Jackson and Mark reinforced for durability and flammability. They said it wouldn’t survive being thrown into the sun, but that it should survive anything else. Jaebeom’s piece was the lightest shade compared to the other runes, and the life of the tree it came from was perfectly preserved. 

 

Centered on it was the engraving of a palm tree, the leaves inked with jade while the trunk was colored with ruby. On either side near the middle of the tree were two characters, mirroring each other to mean guidance and prosperity. The weight was like paper, and Jackson had pierced a hole at the top if anyone wanted to wear their rune as a necklace. He admired and respected every bit of energy Mark and Jackson had put into making them, and he couldn’t call himself their leader if he tossed it aside again. 

 

“We’ve grown from the past, you know? We can’t be afraid to look back and point out what we did wrong, and realize how to fix it with the tools and knowledge we have now.” Jackson seamlessly slipped off the couch and crouched in front of Jaebeom. “There’s no shame in learning and improving. Have pride in making it this far, and start telling yourself you can go farther if you just accept the help that’s handed to you. I’d never add to the thoughts in your head, hyung.” 

 

Jaebeom wanted to blame the complexities of his mind on his tattoo, but he knew the same thoughts circled his brain since their chase began again. Having felt personally attended to with his individuality carved into the triangular rune, and Jackson gently supporting him, a tear rolled down his cheek and curved over his nose because of how he was laying. He didn’t cry often, but Jackson had a certain way about him that made Jaebeom feel like it was okay to release his anger and frustration and overwhelming love for his coven by crying. 

 

Jaebeom’s tears were quiet and inconspicuous, but he had to keep wiping them away and he sniffled into his arm when he did. 

 

Jackson softly smiled and handed the cool cloth to Jaebeom so he could wipe his own face without irritating the skin, and it would keep some of the swelling down after he was done crying. He pressed a lasting kiss to Jaebeom’s forehead and stood up. “I’ll get you some food, okay? Sit up, stretch, go to the bathroom, whatever you need to do, hyung. We have a long week of preparations ahead, so we all have to be properly nourished.” 

 

It was a serious issue, but Jackson said it like he was excited because it would lead to the next step in trying to get their king back, and regardless of what happened then, and how dark Youngjae was now, none of them believed he was actually out for blood. The five of them had a history, and eventually, that would mean something. 

 

Jaebeom cried a few more tears around a scoff and chuckle, and he playfully threw the washcloth at Jackson’s chest. 

 

~*~

 

Yugyeom was outside the Arts building, waiting for Bambam to finish talking with his advisor about his upcoming film project, as well as uncharacteristically asking permission to be absent. He obviously couldn’t go to the hospital for a doctor’s note about a rabid ghoul bite, but he needed to rest and let it air out at home. 

 

He sipped his chocolate shake, scuffing the pavement with the sole of his shoe. Yugyeom still hadn’t learned to filter out the emotions of others, but he kept his rune in his pocket which was a little like turning the volume down, and he only crashed when students passing by were broadcasting their excitement or exhaustion. 

 

He quickly lost balance and had to hold himself up against the decorative cement wall, relief and deception winding themselves into his heart so tightly that he was finding it hard to breathe. 

 

A student tsked as they walked past him from behind and walked in front of him. The student was Youngjae. 

 

Yugyeom didn’t even know how to label him. He wasn’t necessarily an enemy because they wouldn’t murder him to save the realms, but he wasn’t exactly on their side, either. 

 

“Oh, Gyeomie, you sure have changed.” 

 

Yugyeom noticed Youngjae’s hair fell longer over his cheekbones, and he had more dark circles but his gaze was determined. Instinctively, Yugyeom reached out to hold Youngjae’s hand, and creating the direct link to his stirring emotions brought Yugyeom to his knees. 

 

Youngjae bent over and pet his hair, pretending to be worried. “Does it hurt? Want me to heal you?” 

 

“Hyung,” Yugyeom croaked, “I want you to listen.” His heart ached and broke again reliving the disaster of when Youngjae disappeared and locked himself in his apartment, never willing to hear the memories in-between the ones coming back to him, and the truth behind them. It was like the damage was already inherently embedded into the part of him that did identify as Youngjae, and everything that this being was sought another tragedy. “Can we  _ please  _ just talk?” 

 

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say. They wanted my power when I was a witch king, and they still want it.” Youngjae caressed Yugyeom’s cheek so delicately that Yugyeom thought he was going to die, just like this, on his expensive college campus, waiting for Bambam. It’d be one of the only times he’d be a victim, but he didn’t want to die. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder if they always knew who I was. Maybe they noticed the dormant power inside my soul. Don’t you ever wonder what else they hid from us, Gyeomie?” 

 

“That’s why I stayed, hyung. You don’t believe it, but we’re actually on the same side. They don’t need your power, they just miss you, even just as Youngjae. If the boundaries fall anymore, there’ll be  _ nothing  _ left. It’ll be a wasteland of shadow terrors, hyung. Is that the king you want to become in this realm? You can’t even abuse your power if you have no subjects.” 

 

It was more challenging than Yugyeom intended, but he was willing to risk it. 

 

Youngjae scoffed and stood up, overshadowing Yugyeom’s hunched figure. “If you’ve already made me out to be your villain, then why not try and live up to the expectation?” 

 

Seemingly from nowhere, Bambam screeched and halted his feet too fast when he cut between them. “Leave him alone. You don’t get to blame us for cleaning up your messes, even if it was accidental.” 

 

Yugyeom carefully pushed himself onto his feet and brushed off any bits of dirt and gravel that clung to his jeans. Something like guilt colored Youngjae’s eyes when he saw Bambam’s face. “Bammie, what--” 

 

Bambam rolled his eyes and fixed his hands to his hips. “Don’t you know, hyung? You used to be there when I was attacked and left injured or unconscious. This is no different, except even if you didn’t mean to make it happen, you still weren’t fucking  _ there,  _ hyung. This was  _ you _ and I hate that I can’t despise you, but I’m a casualty of your war. And the coven that you think are seeking to  _ destroy  _ you and deceive  _ us  _ are the same ones that  _ save  _ me from fucking dying every week!” He got heavily animated towards the end, raising his voice a little and throwing his arms into the air. Bambam was normally reserved and quiet after every attack, unless someone brought it up, but it was obvious he kept his exhaustion and anger bottled up because there wasn’t one person to blame and confront about it. “Remember when I said there’s never just one darkness, hyung? I think I was wrong. There is only one, and he’s obsessing over it so much that he’ll never know how to control it.” 

 

Yugyeom tried to touch Bambam’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off and walked towards the metro line. “He’s lucky he’s still alive, hyung. The ghoul could’ve sucked his brain out, but instead he had half his face ripped off.” 

 

Youngjae’s emotions deepend and darkened into an eternal bruise that Yugyeom wouldn’t be able to forget even after he was buried in a grave. It wasn’t safe to touch him or say anything more, and he waited to see if Youngjae wanted to the last word, but he glared past his shoulder, narrowing his gaze at Bambam’s shrinking figure. 

 

“Hyung, if you try to kill him, it’ll be over. And it won’t just be the coven that betrays you.” 

 

Youngjae finally met Yugyeom’s eyes, slipping on a neutral expression. “Still living in that house already makes you a traitor.” And with that, Youngjae continued on towards the student building, and Yugyeom caught his breath and gained his emotional bearings. 

 

He immediately chased after Bambam, both of them keeping their personal spaces intact while returning home in ominous silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ice play was not my fault that was all anto she bullied me until i wrote it . but now jae's back ! have fun guessing where it all goes uwu 
> 
> scream at me anytime as always [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> or go bully anto/ask about the gc again if ur interested [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> thank you to everyone who has read so far. even the silent kudos mean a lot it just sucks that you can't kudos per chapter :( we are so happy that ppl really like this story. stay warm and safe if it's snowmaggedon out there and remember to stretch once in awhile if you've been sitting too long!


	6. Scene VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are yall ready for the next stage lol

Bambam hadn’t been able to sit down for hours. He was upset and restless, pleading for the gods to give him any kind of sign, for any hint of his path now. He didn’t want his face to scar, or have his grades fall, or become Youngjae’s main target just because he confronted him. The vision from the ghouls made him believe Youngjae had some control over what he summoned and sent after them, and it was apparent they were running out of time to formulate a plan. 

 

Maybe Bambam made it so they didn’t have time to plan at all. Maybe tomorrow they’d just all attend school and witness the underworld and evil witchcraft overtake this already highly flawed realm. 

 

He attempted to cook some ramen just to clear his mind while counting the bubbles as they boiled to the surface of the water, but he left it too long. The water boiled over and left a scorching smell on the burner. He switched to brewing tea, but steeped it for at least ten minutes longer than he should have, and he dumped the bitter liquid down the drain. He defeatedly dragged himself into his bedroom and figured the best course of action was to repeatedly thunk his forehead against the wall, muttering dejectedly about death, murder, and the end of the galaxy. 

 

Nora settled close to his feet, keeping her flaming fur low and concentrated so she wouldn’t catch anything on fire. She nuzzled worriedly against Bambam’s leg. He lost his footing and fell onto his butt, giving in to the breakdown tearing up his mind. He hugged his knees and dropped his head into his arms, facing complete darkness after closing his eyes. Nora tried to push him over with her warm nose, but he didn’t want to fully end up on the floor. He was going to live as an unmovable human boulder for the rest of his life. No more injuries, and no more worrying about the fate of the world. 

 

“I should just transfer ownership and responsibilities to you,” Jaebeom sighed. “She wanted to play, and then suddenly ran here.” 

 

“She should just set me on fire and leave.” 

 

Nora’s flames licked hotter and closer to his body in a display of complaint, calming her fur again and plopping down right beside his hip. 

 

Jaebeom tapped his fist against the molding of the door frame before entering the room, crouching down in front of Bambam. He ruffled his black hair. “Yugyeom told us what happened.” 

 

“I’m not sorry, hyung. I hope I didn’t doom us, but I’m not sorry.” 

 

“Just look at me for a sec, yeah? I’d rather not accidentally hurt you.” 

 

Bambam rested his chin on his arms and scoffed. “How thoughtful.” 

 

Jaebeom gripped Bambam’s hair tighter at the scalp. “I’m not against  _ purposefully  _ hurting you, though.” 

 

Bambam helplessly swatted at his arm and hand until he let go. “Just say what you came to say, hyung. Or turn me into an invisible rock. I don’t care which.”

 

“There’s no rock stupid enough to replace you with.” 

 

“Then fuck this.” Bambam pushed onto his feet and dramatically walked to his empty suitcase, tossing some of his loose clothes into it. Nora relocated herself to the top of the suitcase, curling into a fireball. 

 

“Not a lot of places are firecat friendly.” 

 

“She’ll do great near a volcano, though.” 

 

Jaebeom sat on the floor and splayed his legs, leaning back on his hands. “Where would you even go without Yugyeomie, huh? He’s gone through a lot of shit trying to help you, in the past and for the future.” 

 

Bambam threw a rolled up pair of jeans into the suitcase, causing a couple lighter pieces of clothing to bounce and shift. Nora was startled enough to split her energy into three, and she stayed near Bambam while Kunta and Odd took a defense position near Jaebeom. “And what for, hyung? We’ve all lost our best friend, have no way of stopping him, and no one knows how the  _ fuck  _ to get back to your realm of ruins! I’ve almost lost my life, Gyeom sacrificed his body, and you guys are like a broken puzzle that’s missing the entire border. We haven’t even talked about the options, and Jinyoung hyung has avoided me since my face was eaten. Even if we had a plan, it’d fall apart because  _ we’re _ falling apart.” Bambam’s breathing was harsh and irregular, and he was ready to crack his skull open on the wood dresser where the metal handles were, but Nora mewed again, threatening him with blue fire. 

 

Jaebeom carefully walked over and flicked Bambam’s temple. “I’d hurt you more, but magic’s abused you enough and Jinyoungie would ignore me into the next lifetime. But I won’t let you stand here and belittle what we’ve done, even if it’s out of anger and frustration. We know our flaws, and we’re working on them. Youngjae only moves when we move, and you’re right that we don’t have a plan, but it’s because right now we don’t know how any of them would end.”    
  


Kunta and Odd were growling low and deep, their orange and reds slowly shifting to purples and blues. Jaebeom and Nora told them to fall back and they did, sitting behind Jaebeom to clean their paws. Bambam still felt like he was in danger with them. “From everything we know,” he continued, “Youngjae is building his magic again, but it won’t even be close to what the king’s soul did in our realm. Jinyoungie says we still have time, so we’ll get to a solution. But if you leave, we can’t save you. Jackson has shown you multiple times that magic can be beautiful, and I know it doesn’t overpower the thousands of negative incidents, but if you just hold onto those few good instances a little longer, we will make progress.” 

 

Bambam slumped his shoulders and kicked at his suitcase. His plan was to hop on the next plane back to Thailand; he missed his family and his mother’s cooking, even though he had some of her recipes memorized. He missed his childhood room and the view of the sea, greens and blues sparkling under the hot sun. He missed leading a normal life on an island and thinking he’d just open a restaurant one day. 

 

But then he remembered the Sunsift, the enveloping warmth of its starlight as it danced and twirled around his fingers. It was even the first time Jackson had seen it behave that way. Bambam admired Jackson for trying so hard to keep everyone positive, and working multiple nights in a row to complete his magic herbal remedies and potions. And Bambam wasted a lot of time procrastinating while playing games with Mark, which never required him to use his magic unless either of them knocked something over in real life that wasn’t meant to break. Jinyoung was always reading and taking notes, using his magic strategically and he didn’t mean to let the ghouls get Bambam, and he did his best to steal some of his pain. 

 

And then there was Jaebeom, standing right in front of him with squinted tired eyes and dark circles after sleeping and screaming through the past few days as he was re-learning some of his magic. He knew he wasn’t stable so he had noticeably been refusing to use his magic unless he was somewhere safe to retrain his control. He wore the rune around his neck and the ring on his hand, doing everything to suppress himself. Magic was a balance.

 

Bambam faltered and changed his mindset, wondering if the muting objects ever hurt. Jackson had an entire drawer full of them, and maybe it was a little like medicine where if it wasn’t the right one, or the dose was off, they’d feel unlike themselves, like they were floating through the hours without much emotion. He wondered if wearing them made them feel like he did after experiencing a thousand too many attacks from various night creatures. 

 

“What’s that look for?” Jaebeom glanced down to follow Bambam’s gaze and self-consciously tried to tuck the rune somewhere, but realized he was shirtless and kept it in his fist. 

 

“I...I’m just thinking. It’s nothing, hyung.” Bambam pulled his own rune out from under his shirt and messily tried to shove everything from his suitcase back into the drawers. Jaebeom helped, at least folding the clothes into a ball so they could be shoved into the spaces easier. 

 

“What you told Jae,” the witch awkwardly cleared his throat, “even if he does personally attack you for it, he still deserved to hear it. He’s….” Jaebeom trailed off to find the words, but he couldn’t. 

 

“You love him, hyung. I’m not oblivious. You fucked like that in the living room, but before hyung’s memories came back, you always looked at him like he was the ocean holding the moon’s reflection. He was this big concept that held the world together. You loved your king, so you love hyung too. I get it’s complicated.” 

 

Jaebeom chuckled darkly to himself. “Maybe if we had you in the witch realm, it wouldn’t have been this complicated. What you told Jae is what I couldn’t manage to tell the king.” 

 

After the last pair of socks were put away, Jaebeom hid the suitcase under the bed. Bambam couldn’t help but stare at his broad back, colored in with rich, earthy browns and bold but pastel pinks that formed the splitting cherry blossom branches across his skin. “Does it still hurt a lot? Your tattoo?” 

 

“I’m mostly functional on a human level. But it twinges once in awhile, like a sudden cramp. Nothing I haven’t dealt with.” 

 

“Is it...is it safe to touch?” 

 

“As long as you don’t punch me.” 

 

Bambam gazed over the details one more time, reminded of how physically attractive he had found Jaebeom in the beginning. He had style and charisma, and held himself with confidence but not cockiness. The ways he continued on after surviving all of the good and bad and traumatic was impressive and inspiring. Maybe he had even more in common with the witch now than he realized. 

 

Bambam pressed a light kiss to one of the blossoms and wrapped his arms around Jaebeom’s waist, resting his good cheek against the warm, bare part of his skin. He breathed deep, filling his senses with the feeling of a forest after the rain, when the soils are damp but not soaked and muddy. Jaebeom was danger, and he was also home. 

 

“I respect you, hyung. And what you do, and what everyone does  _ for  _ you. I just can’t handle being a target anymore, and it’s hard to think a small pocket of good magic can take down a  _ king  _ and his literal army from Hell. If he ran away once, he might run away again.” 

 

Jaebeom folded a hand over Bambam’s. “He won’t, Bammie. The king has reincarnated countless times. He has always disappeared before we found him, so he’s either determined to take us down, or seeking a way to open a portal to our realm and reclaim his throne. Either way, he’ll stay, and we’ll do  _ everything  _ to save him.” 

 

Nora, Kunta, and Odd had melded back into one bigger firecat, understanding the threat was gone. Bambam was left to doubt Jinyoung’s words again. His soul wasn’t supposed to have portal magic here, but it was sounding more like a possibility if even Jaebeom was thinking about it.

 

Jaebeom unhooked Bambam’s arms and turned around, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger. “It’s okay if you can’t always believe in the positive magic, but Jackson would be  _ devastated  _ and mourn you like you were dead if you ever leave. You do a lot for him, Bammie.” 

 

Bambam sighed and closed his eyes. “He’d be useless without me now.” When there was time, he’d make some of the non-magical remedies without any guidance, and a few of them he had memorized the recipes for. 

 

Jaebeom laughed and placed a kiss at the top of his head. He then dropped the playfully fond expression and fell into a serious tone, examining Bambam’s wounded cheek. “Now, what I originally came to say was: get your fucking face taken care of.” 

 

“I’ve been taking care of it, hyung. I put Jackson hyung’s special bandage on, but it itched so I took it off to let the wound air out.” 

 

“Then you didn’t do it right.” 

 

“I followed hyung’s instructions,” Bambam desperately screeched. There was no other way to put the bandage on. 

 

Jaebeom held his chin again. “You. Didn’t. Do. It.  _ Right _ .” He shoved a bagged medical kit into Bambam’s chest. “Jinyoungie knows how. He’s hiding in the library. Follow me and I’ll let you in.” He grabbed one of Bambam’s hands, but he immediately panicked and tried to break free. 

 

“He  _ hates  _ me right now, hyung. And you’re gonna lock me far underground with him? Might as well strike me down with your lightning instead!” 

 

Jaebeom clenched his jaw and tugged Bambam until his socked feet started sliding along the floorboards. It wasn’t exactly easy or comfortable, so he surrendered and stomped behind the witch who was leading him to his doom. 

 

*

 

Jinyoung’s hair and clothes were ridiculously disheveled, and he was the reason the library was in disarray. Different books were left open on pages he thought contained clues for digging into portal magic without causing a major disruption to the existence of their realms, and other books were simply tossed aside with their bindings folding and cracking from hitting the floor. He had yet to find any solid information, and he flipped through one final book, not skimming anything of interest and he groaned, throwing it towards the fireplace mantle. 

 

He berated himself for not staying calm and keeping himself together, but there was too much at stake, and he was alone in their basement full of useless knowledge. He couldn’t predict what would happen next, or who else would be caught in the crossfire, and he hated it. He had a desire to rip up every single book in here and pull the chairs apart piece by piece. 

 

But he gently laid his head against a bookshelf and imagined a protective border around himself, made from the scent of fresh, dark roast coffee beans and the feeling of purple silk against his skin. He imagined the sound of carriages rolling over cobblestone streets and children playing and laughing despite not always having enough to eat. He imagined he could control the wind and breathed out, exhaling slowly so he wouldn’t overturn anyone or anything. 

 

The stairs creaked and Jinyoung knew he was being watched. “Whatever it is, I’m not buying.” 

 

“Not even if I ask real nice and flutter my lashes?” 

 

Jinyoung swore the air tripped him where he stood, but he caught himself and saw Bambam hesitating on the last couple stairs, holding a clear plastic bag to his chest. He seemed timid, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to run. Jinyoung just stared at him, taking in the slightly loose fit of his skinny jeans and the bagginess of his long-sleeve shirt, his rune loudly displayed around his neck, and the ugly remnants of a ghoul bite on his cheek, struggling to heal over. 

 

“H-hyung said you were down here. I wanted help with a bandage, and to see…” Bambam paused and rubbed a corner of the ziploc together. “See if you were okay. If  _ we  _ are okay? I can’t directly blame anyone for what happened, hyung. So, if you think I’m mad, or if you’re blaming yourself…” 

 

“It’s not...it’s not blame.” Jinyoung gathered his wits and shook the remaining irritation from his limbs and gestured for Bambam to follow him. 

 

They sat on a blanket on the ground near the fireplace, the younger taking in all the shelving and books for the first time, clearly overwhelmed and awed by such an intricate basement library. 

 

“How does Gyeom not get lost? This place is  _ huge _ !” 

 

“Secretly, I think he had to make a map on his phone, but now he wanders like he built it.” Jinyoung took the ziploc, pulling a bandage out along with disposable gloves and a hairband. He didn’t give Bambam a warning before collecting his longer bangs into a top ponytail and he messily pulled them into a small half-bun with the hairband. 

 

“Why’d you do that?” 

 

“Weren’t you paying attention to Seunie’s instructions?” Jinyoung slid the gloves on. “Since the bandages are coated with something like an antidote, they can’t be contaminated with anything else, including your disgusting germs.” 

 

“So you are mad at me,” Bambam pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I tried to tell Jaebeom hyung but did he listen? No, of course not. I didn’t even get a farewell kiss on the lips.” He puckered his lips as if to prove they were left unkissed. 

 

Jinyoung pretended to start taking his gloves off. “Guess you don’t want help, after all. Don’t slip on your way upstairs.” He unfolded one leg and Bambam retracted his statement. Jinyoung resumed what he was doing, eyeing where the bandage would go before he peeled off the wax paper backing. “I’m not mad, and I’m not rolling in guilt. I’m honestly surprised the ghouls didn’t eat you earlier, but I’m just...trying to find an answer to everything.” He started revealing the sticky edges of the bandage. “There isn’t one, but I’m afraid of adding one more problem to try and solve. And usually, you bring in the problems. Maybe a part of me blames you, but if I hated you, I’d have Yugyeom and Seunie on my ass, and not in a good way.” 

 

Jinyoung quickly pressed the bandage over his wound, making sure the edges were glued to his skin and the cotton patch with the remedy came in contact with the wound. Jackson had made some kind of paste out of the remaining ghoul saliva from the injury, and reversed the contents into an antibiotic cream to try and make an active healing environment, but the skin didn’t seem to be recovering as fast as they hoped. 

 

“The books won’t have solutions, hyung. It’s obviously a first for everyone. Think of it like a spectrum; on  one end is what happened in your realm, and the other end is what’s happening in our realm. The soul fell once, but if he doesn’t have portal magic, and if Jaebeom hyung said he won’t find another way to run, there’s no way for him to disappear. Your books haven’t ever defeated a king before. Or stole his powers. There’s no battle plan because this battle hasn’t happened before, hyung.” 

 

Bambam had a point, but Jinyoung still couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something extremely vital. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten, or drank enough water, so he took off the gloves and sealed the bag shut again. “Does it feel okay?” He pointed to the newly covered cheek. 

 

“Yeah, actually, I barely even feel it. I dunno how I did it wrong.” Bambam clearly fell into comparing how he had self-bandaged, and what Jinyoung did. 

 

“Dirty germs,” Jinyoung flicked his forehead. He got to his feet and held his hand out. “I’m hungry.” 

 

Bambam grabbed onto Jinyoung and went to pull himself up. “For dirty germs,” he asked, having the nerve to waggle his eyebrows. 

 

Jinyoung forced his hand back, knocking the younger on his ass. “For holy water.” 

 

Jinyoung carried himself up the stairs, but he heard Bambam running behind him to catch up. He managed to hurl himself out of the library just as Jinyoung sealed it back off. Bambam disappeared into the bedroom hall while Jinyoung entered the kitchen to mix together a bowl of leftover surprise and filled a large bottle with water. He took a seat on the couch and powered on the television, playing one of Yugyeom’s dramas for ambient noise and subtle entertainment. 

Bambam came back wearing short, dark grey pajama shorts and one of Jackson’s oversized black hoodies. He knew it was Jackson’s because it had Wang written out in all capital letters, with a small, white font and spaces between every letter. Bambam beelined for the couch and laid down with his head on Jinyoung’s thigh, facing the television.

 

“No one’s in the bedroom, and you don’t hate me, hyung, so I’m sleeping here.” He shoved his hands into the kangaroo pocket and closed his eyes, his feet digging under a pillow for comfort. 

 

Jinyoung didn’t have it in him to kick the boy off, especially when he knew how his nightmares were when he slept alone. He was almost worse than Yugyeom now when it came to bad dreams and horrible sleeping habits. Jinyoung lowered the volume just enough to lull Bambam to sleep while he finished eating and drinking his bottle of water. 

 

Jaebeom came out of the bathroom after a shower, his hair slicked back from being wet, and he wore a pair of black basketball shorts with a red stripe down the side. He towel dried his hair again and threw it into the hamper, and darted over to where Jinyoung was pinned to the couch. 

 

Jaebeom kneeled and fondly laid his head near Bambam’s, tucking some of the boy’s hair behind his ear. “Did you tie his bangs up?” 

 

Jinyoung calmly shrugged. “I didn’t want his hair to get under the bandaid. He’s the one who left it up.” 

 

Jaebeom traced the outline of the bandage with his thumb. “It’s not getting much better.” 

 

“I know, and Seunie is afraid of a healing session in case he overwhelms the nerves. That’s like surgery for him. Multiple ways it can go wrong.” 

 

He glanced up at Jinyoung, keeping his hand on Bambam’s cheek. “Even on a basic human injury level, stress makes you heal slower. And he’s stressed.” 

 

“The whole house is stressed, Jaebeom. Even the stupid blackhole upstairs is stressed. And fucking Greg, I swear if Seunie complains about her one more time--” 

 

Jaebeom shushed him with a finger and pointed back to Bambam who deeply inhaled, stretching and slightly shifting his body before settling into sleep again. 

 

“Jinyoungie, I know, okay? I know. Part of that was my fault. But we just need Bammie with us, even if he’s against our magic. We need him to trust us as  _ people _ . As family.” 

 

Jinyoung closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to break. “He just doesn’t absorb magic like Yugyeom does. I don’t know what the fuck to do for him, Jaebeom. He can’t wield it, he can’t defend it, and we don’t even know if his rune works because Jae didn’t attack him on campus.” 

 

“Jackson made that rune with him specifically in mind. Whether he believes in its power or not, it’ll protect him long enough to make a distress call or run away. He’s smarter than we give him credit for, and we should take him seriously.” 

 

“What happened between you two?” 

 

Bambam whined in his sleep and Jaebeom immediately soothed him, petting his head and kissing his forehead until the worry wrinkle softened. “Nothing happened. He’s just...observant.” Jaebeom toyed his rune gently across the chain, and Jinyoung knew whatever they went through earlier, it was small but significant. 

 

“Fine. I’ll take him seriously, but if it means not teasing him anymore, I’m out. He would have left if I didn’t put sarcasm into his life. Now help me escape. I’m not sleeping here, and my legs are numb.” 

 

Jaebeom quietly laughed and carefully lifted Bambam off the couch, carrying him into the bedroom. Jinyoung put his dishes on the counter, intent on washing them tomorrow, and he put the decorative pillows back where they belonged on the couch and turned off the television, as well as most of the lights. Mark and Jackson were obviously busy with something magical, playing games, or fucking, or all three and frankly, Jinyoung wasn’t keen on finding out. He just didn’t want either of them to enter a pitch black living room, but he didn’t want to waste the energy if they never came out of the hall, so he left a couple of the soft corner lamps on and headed into the bedroom. 

 

Jinyoung changed into a large tee shirt and freshly laundered boxers and tucked himself behind Jaebeom’s back. He was cautious of the tattoo, but laid close enough to generate body heat between them. Bambam had barely woken up after being relocated, flopping his hands from the hoodie and onto the bed in front of Jaebeom. Jaebeom pressed his lips to the back of them, as well as Bambam’s cheek and jaw. 

 

Eventually, Bambam brushed the kisses away and rolled closer until he was buried in Jaebeom’s chest, and Jinyoung caressed both of them where he could, easing them into sleep. 

 

Jinyoung was wide-awake, echoing the same words over and over again. 

 

_ “Your books haven’t ever defeated a king before. Or stole his powers.”  _

 

Maybe the only way to save their king, and Youngjae, was to actually betray him. It wasn’t a truth Jinyoung was prepared to face without finding a way to make it morally right, and he wished he knew of other options. He was just stalling for time so he didn’t have to say them aloud. 

 

Because he couldn’t say them out loud without becoming a tainted witch himself. He didn’t know if he could live as a hypocrite. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Jaebeom paced around his office, trying to shake off the memories piecing themselves together. He knew Jinyoung hadn’t called a strategy meeting because there was never going to be a strategy meeting. Their options, ironically, were the very same ones the king had wrongfully called them traitors for. Either Jaebeom or Youngjae would have to die, or have their magic cursed out of them and placed into one of them, both of which were immoral if the witch refused to willingly surrender, and Jaebeom knew Youngjae would be far from willing to hand over the king’s soul. 

 

The royal council once had the key to extract the power from either of them, and they had always meant to make Jaebeom surrender, until they learned it was more effective to use it to control the king himself. To manipulate his emotions and relationships until he believed he couldn’t trust anyone. And now that very knowledge was crumpled in Jaebeom’s fist as he wondered what the coven would be like without him to lead them. The war wasn’t his alone to battle, but the only viable solution was to just give the king  what he wanted all along. If they were lucky, maybe Youngjae would take Jaebeom’s place and treat his loved ones as family, like he once did in both lifetimes. 

 

Jaebeom wanted to hold onto the smallest seed of hope, thinking a complete soul would mean a balanced and rational one. 

 

Jaebeom rested his forehead against the cool glass of the office window and shakily inhaled, doing his best not to punch a hole through the glass pane. He was sure to bring the entire house down, including the foundation and framework at this point. He retracted his fist and sat in his chair, rolling himself over to the desk and re-read the page--and the surrounding pages--from the book he tore the instructions out of, desperately searching for a loophole one last time. 

 

The setup of the ritual was similar to many other mental manipulation magics. There had to be an enclosed ring on the ground, built from whichever symbolic item fit better with the person, as well as firmly set with the intention of giving up power. If Jaebeom was doing this the other way, with Youngjae as the victim, he’d have to make the ring invisible and spell a cage to trap him once he was tricked to step inside. And with this level of magic, no one could escape. Jaebeom knew it would burn and scrape and eat away at him even if he didn’t touch the roots that would be holding him down. Then Jaebeom would have to meditate his energy and connect with Youngjae’s to separate the king’s soul and power from his own soul and body, and if even one thread was left, Jaebeom would become an actual criminal--just like the ones they’d hunted. 

 

He didn’t even know if Youngjae would be able to reach that deep inside and steal the power from Jaebeom before it could reverse or cancel out, but he kind of didn’t care. At the end of the day, the lives of his coven, including Yugyeom and Bambam, and Youngjae when they first met him, and the king inside him, was more important than his own. If his sacrifice would save the rest of them, how could he not try? 

 

After coming up empty for any loophole or alternative routes for the rituals so neither of them would be in so much pain, Jaebeom finally gave up and accepted the fact that today was the day he would leave and not return. 

 

*

 

Yugyeom was studying his geode, and his rune triangle when Jinyoung stormed through the living room. He backtracked when he noticed Yugyeom and pointed at him accusingly. “You! You’re avoiding me!” 

 

“Me? Never,” Yugyeom said sarcastically. 

 

“You weren’t in the library and you weren’t in the hall, or in any of the bedrooms.” 

 

“I was in the  _ bathroom _ , hyung. And you claim to be the intelligent one,” he scoffed.  

 

“This is exactly why you’re the chosen one.” Jinyoung put Yugyeom’s geode and rune on the coffee table, grabbed his hand and ripped him from the couch. “Come on, idiot. You’re coming with me.” 

 

“To  _ where _ ? My death?” Yugyeom screeched. 

 

“Yes. Remember when Mark hyung said we sacrifice people when they deserve it?” He stopped just to boop Yugyeom’s nose. “You earned a sacrifice, babe. Congratulations!” 

 

It was laced with mocking sarcasm and Yugyeom wanted to puke all over him for it. Jinyoung held him in an iron grip, so he had no choice but to carry on walking. The witch took them into the library, and instead of any of their usual researching corners, he veered off towards the left, following the aisle until they hit the wall. Jinyoung deeply inhaled and drew a pattern over the brick until it gave way, much like the library entrance did. 

 

It revealed an arched tunnel--long, dim, and cold. Seemingly endless. 

 

“I don’t want to die holding a witch’s hand! Can’t I just go in alone? I promise not to come back.” 

 

Jinyoung absolutely refused to let his hand go and they carried on past the threshold. The opening closed behind them and Jinyoung grabbed one of the torches off the wall, leading them forward. 

 

Yugyeom had no idea what this place was, or where it led to, and frankly, he didn’t actually want to know. But all he could do was suppress his panic and trust Jinyoung through it all. 

 

The tunnel spiraled around, going deeper underground and Yugyeom figured they had to be somewhere  _ under  _ the library when they met a turn and ended up in a U-turn, except the path dove lower instead of returning to where they started. The exit door was visible--a large slab of ancient, darkly stained wood that looked like it had been rained on since the medieval period. 

 

Yugyeom slowly inhaled, counting his breaths in his mind to control his panic of the unknown, but as Jinyoung began pushing the door open with his shoulder, he squeezed Jinyoung’s hand tighter and he somehow knew he’d be safe. 

 

They went through the doorway, and the world turned grey. 

 

*

 

Jaebeom didn’t gather much into his bag. He readied the necessities for him to legally drive, as well as his phone and a few things Youngjae had left behind that might remind him he was his own person in this life, and didn’t necessarily have to behave based off what he’d seen of the soul’s memories. He made sure he had his muting ring and new rune necklace, and he snuck into Jackson’s workshop to take the one he knew was meant for Youngjae. 

 

Everyone was still hoping he was going to come back. 

 

Jaebeom looked through the rooms for Jinyoung because he _refused_ to leave without seeing him. It was likely going to be Jaebeom’s last night, and after surviving this long, he wasn’t going to have Jinyoung thinking of doing any dangerous revival spells on him. Then they’d all be lawless fugitives in their own realm and morals, and probably all become zombies before turning into vengeful spirits that someone else would have to banish. 

 

He didn’t find him, though, but he returned to the living room to see Jackson with an elaborate setup of items on the coffee table. 

 

“Hey, where’s Jinyoungie?” 

 

Jackson carefully placed a pot in the middle of the table and laid down a pair of golden scissors near the edge, winged handles facing out. He straightened up and wiped his hands on his pants before sliding them into his back pockets. “You want the solid answer, or the 99% sure, educated guess answer?” 

 

“Both.” 

 

“The solid answer is I have no fucking idea. Jinyoungie dragged Gyeom into the library, and when I went down to grab a recipe, they were nowhere in sight, but that secret tunnel entrance had just finished closing. So the educated answer is--” 

 

“The  _ Middle  _ World? Are you fu--is Jinyoungie  _ that  _ reckless? He won’t make it.” 

 

“It’s near a new moon, the minute was just right, he has Gyeomie, and you know better than I do, hyung, that if anyone can swindle a swindler, it’s _him_.” Jackson acted like he was finished but then popped up to speak his other thoughts. And why not listen since Jaebeom couldn’t leave and have the king’s soul maybe kill him since Jinyoung wasn’t even in their realm for a final farewell? “Also, he’s not _reckless_ , like _one_ hyung I know. He found an odd journal documenting the perfect trade, and asked _me_ for modern alternatives. Unlike said hyung who packs his bag and plans a mental goodbye to his coven because he’s marching literally into the sharp blade of a poisoned sword.” Jackson huffed and loosened his posture, and waved one of his hands. “Not that I’m hurt and bitter or anything.” 

 

He saw the blonde glaring at the small bag on his shoulder and the keys in his hands, and Jaebeom tried to play it off. “ _ Me _ ? After all the discussions and arguments we’ve had about sharing the burden, you think I was going to go off  _ alone  _ somewhere?” He scoffed to himself and just that tiny action alone made the lights flicker randomly. Did his ring even hold a shred of balancing power anymore? “See? I was  _ stressed  _ and didn’t want to infect the house, so I was going for a, uh, night drive.” 

 

“That’s not what your aura says.” Jackson sighed and slumped his shoulders, appearing to give up the fight. “I don’t know what your full plan  _ was _ , but I can tell you believe it was meant to end badly. So just...take this as a sign, and let us find a solution. If you need to go on the drive, take Bammie with you. I won’t let you leave this house alone until Jinyoungie comes back.” The way his gaze darkened made it sound like a threat, and Jaebeom wasn’t a stranger to Jackson’s haywire magic, and even if he’d mean to only keep him on house arrest, it was likely to become one-corner-of-a-single-room arrest. 

 

Bambam swung his head from the bedroom hall to peer at them. “What’s my name for? Where am I going?” 

 

“With me,” Jaebeom surrendered. Even if his plan to run towards Youngjae’s apartment was thwarted, he couldn’t get the idea of fresh night air and nearly empty streets out of his head. 

 

Bambam pointed to himself, looking around cheekily for another person with his name. “Me? Isn’t that Yugyeom’s job?” 

 

“Jinyoungie needed him for something in the library. They might not be finished before the morning,” Jackson responded. 

 

He probably knew Jaebeom was about to spin a lie about Jinyoung sacrificing him finally, but Bambam had probably been through enough near-sacrifices for to not find that joke funny or believable. 

 

“I’m in my pajamas, hyung.” 

 

“We’re just going for a drive. Wandering the streets on four wheels. You don’t need to care about your clothes,” Jaebeom said exhaustively. 

 

“Well, give me a minute to grab my things, okay hyung?” 

 

Jaebeom grunted noncommittally, and he was surprised when only a few minutes had passed before he was ready to leave. Bambam had only gone to the bathroom and slipped some shoes on. He also tucked himself into Jinyoung’s navy blue jacket from the coat rack, and both Jaebeom and Jackson eyed him curiously. 

 

“I’ve worn it before,” he shrugged. “And you won’t kill me if I’m wearing your husband’s coat.” 

 

Jackson howled with laughter and clapped his hands. Jaebeom imagined the center of the coffee table being carved out, a circle just a little bigger than the pot in the middle, and it all falling to the ground. When it actually happened, Jackson gasped and screeched and Jaebeom was the one smirking. 

 

“ _ Jaebeom _ ! How could you!” 

 

Jaebeom put his hand on the door knob and opened it. “Sorry, gotta go. Have Mark hyung fix it for you.” 

 

He heard more protests and offended, strangled sounds as Bambam closed the front door behind them. Jaebeom unlocked the car and they buckled up. Bambam shockingly listened to the quiet hum of the engine and the white noise of the silent radio and air vents instead of blasting music or playing on his phone. He put the soles of his feet against the glove compartment and Jaebeom lowered the windows a little, glancing every now and then when the rustle of Bambam’s hair caught his attention. 

 

He drove without a destination in mind, turning whenever his muscle memory told him to. They ended up on the same street that went through the backside of the university, noting the closed corner marts and tipsy pedestrians stumbling just off the edge of the sidewalks. 

 

Jaebeom reached a point he didn’t recognize, but Bambam suddenly perked up, feet thumping onto the floor and he pointed for a turn. 

 

“Here! Up here, hyung!” 

 

Jaebeom didn’t have a reason not to follow it, so he listened to the younger’s instructions and he was in the small backlot of a park. Bambam eagerly unbuckled and stepped out of the car, and Jaebeom quickly followed after him because he didn’t even know if there were guards on watch here, or what else might come for them. 

 

Bambam swallowed nervously and loosely entwined their fingers, as if he didn’t know if the contact was okay. Jaebeom folded their hands tightly to give him courage, and the boy led him through the grass and towards a forested area. There was a ring of trees in a merely unnoticeable corner, and Jaebeom could smell the residual magic and energy radiating from it. Even before Youngjae knew the power he held, some of it had still escaped. There was some kind of protection or barrier spell on that space to keep it private. 

 

Bambam bravely didn’t hesitate or stop and they entered the trees to see an empty park bench. 

 

He disappointedly sighed and stood right beside Jaebeom instead of slightly in front of him. He hung his head and barely swung their arms. “Sorry, hyung. I thought I was onto something.” 

 

“Why’re you sorry to me?” 

 

“This place is-- _ was _ \--the three of ours. I thought maybe it’d be the  _ one  _ place besides campus that he’d go.” Bambam freed his hand and sat on the bench. “I still don’t regret anything I told him, and I don’t even hold a grudge. I just wish everyone would raise their white flags and sign a peace offering that says we all vow to cherish and love and protect each other.” 

 

“Isn’t that a marriage license?” 

 

“Does that even matter with you two? You share the  _ same  _ soul! Like, literally! Can’t you like, I dunno...hack into his mind or something?” 

 

Jaebeom scratched his temple. He took soft steps and crouched in front of Bambam, hands resting on the bench for support. “There’s no way to do it safely. And if we make him give up his power, we’d become traitors to the throne, and hypocrites.” 

 

Bambam groaned and leaned his head back to stare at the trees. “Witches and their  _ ethics _ .” 

 

“Humans and their  _ whining _ ,” Jaebeom mocked in return. 

 

Bambam whipped his head down and playfully kicked Jaebeom’s back. “I’m serious, hyung. Everything is in this black and white frame for you, and it’s never worked. If the witches who fucked with the king’s mind  _ emotionally  _ were corrupt, why can’t you dabble outside the system to fix it? Can’t win the game if you don’t play by their rules.” 

 

“How can we,” Jaebeom rolled his eyes and touched his forehead to Bambam’s thighs. 

 

“Like, instead of option A being to force Youngjae hyung to give up his powers, and option B being you willingly give your power to him and he possibly destroys the world anyway, there’s option  _ C  _ which allows you, or us, or whoever, to exhaust him so much that he realizes he doesn’t even  _ want  _ the power in this life and this realm, and ends up surrendering after all.” 

 

“That’s still manipulation,” Jaebeom mumbled. 

 

“It is, but it’s not, hyung. We know Youngjae hyung, and when he finally has a big enough emotional meltdown, he’s gonna separate himself from the memories embedded in the soul and want his own life and friends back. Maybe even the king will reach that point of exhaustion and want you back, too. As long as he verbally volunteers for you to take his power, you’re within the black and white codes.” 

 

Jaebeom pondered it a moment, and Bambam wasn’t exactly wrong. They all could be manipulative and passive aggressive enough to pull it off, but if they were  _ purposely  _ doing it for a very clear intention and outcome, Jaebeom didn’t think he could give the green light on it. 

 

He lifted his head and stared at Bambam a few seconds, and they both softened their expressions. “Jinyoungie’s trying to find a new option, too, so when they get done, we’ll have a discussion.” Jaebeom stood up and stretched out the kinks, and Bambam poked his belly for fun before jumping over the arm of the bench and making a mad dash towards the car. Jaebeom caught up when the boy fumbled and tripped on a rock. He gripped his small arm. “I’m hungry, so you’re not safe yet.” 

 

Bambam wasn’t scared at all. 

 

Jaebeom drove them to a midnight food cart and ordered a few plates of fried chicken, and they ate outside with the fluorescent lighting of the 24 hour store behind the cart, and kicked each other under the table like children. It was easy silence and a refreshing atmosphere. Regardless of the impending uncertainties, Jaebeom, at least temporarily, felt lighter than he had the past few weeks. 

 

Just as the magic produced depended on the magician wielding it, Jaebeom finally understood it was also the others surrounding the magician who could influence it. His power was going to be strange and sometimes out of control, but if he held tighter onto moments like this, maybe he could forget again that he was meant to hold a dark magic whenever the king’s supposed pure, light magic appeared. 

 

If Jaebeom knew who he was responsible for, and use them as reasons to believe in himself, coupled with his muting ring and rune, maybe he’d stop seeing a future where he destroys this realm, too. 

 

Bambam nudged his shoulder when the plates were empty, and with full stomachs and minds, Jaebeom took them home, the younger’s feet on his dashboard and the windows completely rolled down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you would be right in assuming the entirety of this au is just one big ploy for me to save yugbeom and jaebams nations like welcome aboard next stop one day is sure to be yugbeombams you know. gotta think a massive au for them tho 
> 
> anyway the things as usual if you wanna say anything or ask us anything. In case you dont know cc is anon too if that helps.: 
> 
> For me: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> For Anto: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> And again the group chat for this au if you wanna join: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	7. Scene VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay yall here we go strap in ur seatbelts its gonna be a Ride. 
> 
> also anto's original tag: Taemin oppa saranghae

The grey Other World seemed to mirror most of the layouts Yugyeom knew from his world, but the stones of the paths and the eerie feeling displaced in the stagnant air made him assume it was a reflection of multiple realms and worlds. It was recognizable territory, but simultaneously twisted into something wholly unnatural and still. There were barely any colors, as if he was looking through a filtered lens that muted them among the shades of grey. The world was also incurably cold and Yugyeom was going to freeze to death soon. 

 

Jinyoung kept tugging him closer anytime he strayed a step too far ahead or behind. He heard the door behind them finally shut with a soft creaking sigh, and now he really was trapped inside Jinyoung’s game. 

 

“What  _ is  _ this place?” 

 

“It’s a fallen barrier trying to mesh your realm with the magic realm. This is what the in-between pockets of chaos look like at first while they try to become a stable, connecting pathway,” Jinyoung quietly explained. He stuffed their entwined hands into his coat pocket and looked at Yugyeom with expectant, shining eyes and a slightly downturned mouth. “Just stick close to me and don’t talk, okay?” 

 

“Okay, hyung, but are you not unnerved by the silence silencing the silence? Because it’s really  _ silent _ , hyung.” 

 

“It was meant to stay hidden and isolated. But I seriously need you to stay quiet. Do I need to give you some magically sealing lip balm?” 

 

Yugyeom shook his head. “Nope, no more words. Got it, hyung.” 

 

Jinyoung nodded with finality and walked them to the very center of this world, the path leading to a cobblestoned circle with a single hut resembling something he had only seen in fantasy anime. The colors on it were still dulled, and built from various natural materials to appear small, and the lone firelight set into the structure by the door made it more inviting. 

 

Which was probably the entire point of it. The firelight was a trap to catch intruders by their own volition. 

 

Jinyoung rapped his knuckles softly against the door, and the sound was the only thing that traveled through the realm. But for far too long.  It was almost like this place was an illusion, and in reality was physically empty with solid walls and higher ceilings locking them inside. 

 

The door swung open on its own and Yugyeom tried to fight against Jinyoung so he could just wait outside, but Jinyoung was physically stronger and forced him to stumble over the threshold. The hut had more room inside than the exterior gave it credit for, with a decor of beads and old animal skulls and curtains hiding the areas beyond the entrance space. There was a low sitting table with one lit candle set slightly off center, and a wildly out of place antfarm near the edge. Jinyoung had them kneel in a more traditional manner in front of the table. From behind the curtain entered a man with shorter, silver hair, bangs a perpetually damp and falling into his eyes. He had soft looking skin, but bold and memorable features. 

 

The way he carried himself and how his energy spun around, Yugyeom couldn’t tell if he was human or a witch, or something else in-between. He was like a meddling shapeshifter, tricky as a fox or a greedy raccoon--a creature on par with the edges of the very universe, and in love with the infinite moon reflected in the color of his hair and the mix of shimmers on his face. 

 

“Your kind shouldn’t tread here,” he easily warned. 

 

“But you know why I  _ have _ ,” Jinyoung responded. 

 

“Even so, why assume I’d help? Your kind,” he glanced from Jinyoung to Yugyeom, “ _ yours  _ included, have failed time and time again to keep the barriers safe.” 

 

Yugyeom really didn’t understand the full extent of every realm’s history, or how long this being had lived to know this wasn’t a first time failure, but they needed a way to fix it, and a way to bring Youngjae back, and weave together all the loose ends so their work wouldn’t unravel again. “Please,” Yugyeom worried his brows and gazed directly at the mysterious man, “it’s  _ different _ . I don’t know everything we’ve failed at, but I don’t want to be a part of failing  _ this _ .” He wished he had a solid definition of what  _ this  _ referred to. 

 

Jinyoung glared at him from the side, but quickly pulled himself together and deeply bowed his head. “I didn’t come here empty handed. That gift is yours, even if you’re only willing to listen.” 

 

Yugyeom almost told himself the gift was going to be his sacrifice, but he logically understood it was always an empty threat. He had already fucked up so many times, and supported the coven even more. They hadn’t yet minced his body for soup. His emotions knotted and twisted, and he was conflicted on listening to his brain telling him to run, or his heart telling him to lean on Jinyoung as he’d done before. Yugyeom carefully closed his eyes and breathed in, grounding his weight more into his knees and feet as a distraction. He held Jinyoung’s hand until his palm felt clammy.

 

“If I do have advice, why would you trust a Moon Being not to lie?” 

 

“We don’t have any other choice,” Jinyoung said, low and desperate. “We’ve exhausted our resources, and you’re our last lead.” 

 

The  _ Moon Being _ sighed and folded his hands together, pushing them above his head to stretch up, and side to side. “Very well, then. What’s this gift?” 

 

Jinyoung pulled their hands from his pocket, settling the back of his hand on the tabletop. He slowly unfolded their fingers and lifted Yugyeom’s hand away by his wrist, and once exposed to air, there was a growing, glowing orb hovering above his palm. It was warm and cold, like the times Yugyeom slept too hard and woke up with his chest red and hot, while his shoulders had been exposed to the open Winter air. 

 

“A bond--between a witch and a human. There’s trust even when fear causes doubt.” 

 

Yugyeom nearly collapsed to the floor. That was why Jinyoung was so adamant on holding his hand and having him step in tandem with him because he was harnessing all those conflicting emotions to offer as payment. Even if he wasn’t sacrificed, part of his energy was stolen from him and it was still a dirty trick. 

 

“You  _ used  _ me!” He didn’t purposely yell it aloud, but it happened and he couldn’t take it back. 

 

“Did I  _ really _ ? You hold my hand all the time, Gyeomie,” Jinyoung shrugged. 

 

“But you brought me here  _ specifically  _ for this, hyung. So you could steal my  _ bonding  _ energy. That’s low, hyung.” 

 

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slid up and he was fully amused by the outburst. “Did it hurt you?” 

 

Yugyeom paused and briefly shut down. Shyly, he dropped his position and slumped his shoulders. “No.” 

 

Even the Moon Being was smiling a little, and the orb above Jinyoung’s hand grew a little brighter with their quarrelling. “Okay, I’ll  _ listen _ , but save the love spat for home. I do have other clients to deceive.” He took a couple cloths off a shelf and wrapped the orb inside, slipping it into a velveteen sack for safer keeping. He set it somewhere behind the curtain and made his long cape billow behind him so he didn’t end up sitting on it. He let one knee relax in front of his chest, and the other leg folded on the ground. He gestured to the table and gave them free reign of the conversation. 

 

“I’ll skip the details since you know why we’re here, but our options are more or less black and white, and our magic and personalities don’t operate well in finding that justifiable middle solution. We’re trying to find a third option, or even more, that are within our abilities and that could safely save our king, and rebuild the barriers.” Jinyoung slid from a kneeling position into a proper sitting posture. “We can’t see those options, but  _ you  _ can.” 

 

The Moon Being brought the candle closer to him, and fanned the flame with his hands. “There are multiple options, and in the hands of witches, or humans, the results still vary greatly.” He fanned it in the opposite direction, and Yugyeom finally softened when he felt the warmth of it. “In the hands of humans and witches  _ together _ , even I cannot see those ends.” 

 

“That’s okay. I know you’re not a Seer,” Jinyoung accepted. “We just need somewhere to begin.”

 

The being laid his arms straight out on the table, palms extended towards each of them. “You can trust the options I give you are true. It is meant only to be a starting point, as you request, but the outcomes they show will not fit your changing situation.” 

 

Jinyoung squeezed Yugyeom’s thigh reassuringly, and at the same time, they both set their palms atop his.  

 

The options and the futures were not clear cut, showing one single process at a time. It was a multitude of information directly relayed into their nerves and memories. The options led to a lot of death, either the coven or the human additions, or some members were lost and abandoned, trapped in their own fears until their bodies decided to finally rot. There were futures with the realms never fully fixed, but it was decent enough, and others had every barrier down, with complete chaos and destruction. 

 

There were a few they had to hold onto because it suggested finding a way to simply pull Youngjae and Jaebeom out of the situation, and even if it still led to them being killed, they wouldn’t stop until there was a way to keep them alive. It made sense that in order to stop the vicious cycle, the ones keeping the cycle alive would either need to have a mental shift or a power shift, and end the problem before it looped over or got worse. And as the being stated before, maybe the reality of these beginnings wouldn’t end in so much bloodshed.

 

To keep his optimism, Yugyeom had a wild thought about how to instill the hope necessary to provoke that option and outcome of a safe power shift, but he didn’t want Jinyoung to know about it in case it was rejected. 

 

They both bowed to him from their knees to show gratitude for giving them the insight only he had access to, and Yugyeom apologized for his outbreak with Jinyoung. 

 

Jinyoung thanked him and stood up, motioning for Yugyeom to do the same, but Yugyeom fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “Actually, I have a personal question. I’ll be outside in a minute? That okay, hyung?” 

 

Jinyoung mussed his hair. “There’s not a lot of time, so just be quick.” 

 

Yugyeom promised it wasn’t going to take all night, and once the witch left the hut and the door closed, he turned back to see the Moon Being smiling fondly and longingly at their lingering interaction. “He’s meant to live, regardless of what happens. The stars sing of it.” 

 

Yugyeom dug his palms into his thighs. “That’s...not what I’m worried about.” He couldn’t worry about Jinyoung because all he knew how to do was survive, and lift others up to survive with him. He was a fighter, no matter what, and gathered strength when others didn’t have it. He was admirable, if Yugyeom was honest with himself. But he returned his focus to the topic at hand and stared at the flickering candle. “What happens if we add to one of those scenarios? Or switch the script entirely?” 

 

The being cocked his eyebrow and stayed silent for a good second. “Go on.” 

 

“Everything you’ve seen, and have shown to others--among all those options and beginnings--has a  _ human  _ ever entered the portal to another realm? Like, an accessible portal. Not something created from Ouija boards and stuff.” He steeled his expression and didn’t shy away from looking at the being across from him. His eyes gleamed with curiosity. “If a human attempts to fully wield an aspect of a witch’s power, what happens?” 

 

The Moon Being crossed his legs, and seemed to peer into Yugyeom’s entire existence, looking at him with intense X-ray vision, and then he leaned back and slowly nodded. “So you  _ are  _ the one.” 

 

“What one?” 

 

“The one who awakened my treasure. And got a rune tattoo. You’ve been trying to earn as much magic as you can.” 

 

Yugyeom felt like he was going to be scolded and he lightly tapped on the edge of the table. “I just want to protect my friends.” 

 

“I am not a judgement upon your world. You make your own choices. But carrying the magic you’re thinking of, it may destroy you. That’s if it ever worked. It could destroy your world, or every realm, or you’ll open the portal and never be able to close it. A human having magic deeply rooted into them has not happened in the past, the now, or the futures I can see.” He stretched his arms out on both sides and shrugged. “But then perhaps nothing would happen. It’s your choice based on what you’ve seen here, but I will advise you this once. Don’t underestimate your own knowledge and the power you’ve already gained. Empathy is a powerful magic of its own, so don’t let doubt steer you into danger.” He reached for Yugyeom’s hand and turned his wrist to study his palm. “See?” He pointed to a small line branching off his lifeline. “There’s a rawness in you to begin with. Trust  _ that _ .” 

 

Yugyeom stared at it for himself and wiggled his fingers to watch the line crease and disappear. He had his questions answered as much as they possibly could be, so he unhooked the loop of his dangle earring and placed it next to the candle. “I didn’t come here prepared, but here’s a small offering for your extra time.” 

 

The being gratefully took it and admired the energy stored inside that Yugyeom couldn’t sense. “If you want a reason to believe me, or your friend out there makes you doubt what I say, check the bottom of your geode and the very last page of the  _ Moon Ailments  _ book--you’ll see my name in characters.  _ Taemin _ .” He covered the earring with a protectant cloth as well and continued speaking. “You know, a decent amount of beings have used items from middle worlds for their surface purpose, but only the witches who gave you them have ever unearthed the emotional purpose. They know your worth, Yugyeom.” 

 

“Think I value them more than they do me,” he dejected. Yugyeom recognized the end of the conversation and stood up to bow. As he walked towards the door, Taemin called him one last time. 

 

He watched Yugyeom with a sad but wishful gaze, as if he already knew what Yugyeom planned to do. “Good luck.” 

 

Yugyeom nodded and for some empathic reason said, “You, too.” 

 

Jinyoung was waiting for him between the hut and the returning pathway, and immediately checked that Yugyeom was physically and emotionally fine. He tugged on his now empty piercing. “Where’d it go?” 

 

“He was cheaper than a therapist,” he shrugged. “I can buy another earring.” This time, Yugyeom initiated their hand-holding, and they strolled their way back to the tunnel door and out of this strange mirror realm. They winded through the tunnels and eventually saw the door leading into the library; Yugyeom wasn’t actually sure if he was glad to finally be home. 

 

~*~

 

Yugyeom, for the first time in his life, dropped a mug onto the kitchen floor because he wasn’t paying attention to where the counter was, or maybe his grip on the handle wasn’t steady enough. He stared at the chipped ceramic pieces against the dark wood, attaching all his stress and anger into this one, pitiful mistake and ran a hand over his face so he didn’t scream. 

 

“Take a nap, Yugyeom,” Mark’s voice surprised him. 

 

Yugyeom returned to reality with his wallowing to see Mark handling the bigger broken pieces, and magically dusted away the little shards and ceramic chips so there wouldn’t be any traces left on the ground. “Thanks for the suggestion, hyung, but I’ll just have more coffee.” He turned to open the cabinet for another mug, but Mark waved his hand towards it and slammed it shut, sealing it so Yugyeom couldn’t even jostle the door. 

 

“I know you saw some shit the other day, but I’m the only one left in this house who will literally fight you if you keep living in your mind. If you can’t talk to us about it, at least write it the fuck down for yourself.” He reached around Yugyeom’s shoulder and grabbed a glass from the cabinet beside him and filled it up with water, holding it against Yugyeom’s chest until he held the cup with both hands. “Hydrate. Find a way to sort your shit. I’ve seen this before with them _ and you,  _ so it’s not a   _ suggestion _ \--it’s a solution.” 

 

Yugyeom sipped the water and turned the glass around in his hands, watching the ways light filtered through it. Mark busied himself with practically emptying the entire fridge onto the island after setting out a cutting board and the sharpest knife they owned. “Hyung,” Yugyeom said softly to mend their small rift. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Would you do something reckless if it meant keeping your family alive and without injury?” 

 

The eldest let the fridge door fall shut on its own and dangerously pointed the knife at Yugyeom. “Murder? Yes. You don’t know  _ anything  _ about the real shit I pulled in our realm.” He put the tip of the blade on the cutting board, grabbing a strawberry with his other hand and cut the leaf off, handing it to Yugyeom. “But if you mean dying, like half of this house is always trying to do, hell to the fuck to the no.” 

 

Yugyeom took the red fruit between his fingers and bit off half. 

 

Mark wiggled his pinky, indicating their floral binding tattoos. “We survive as one, and we fall as one.” 

 

Yugyeom was going to ask if he’d be willing to sacrifice his humanity, but then remembered it wasn’t going to work for a witch, so he shifted it to an idea of equal meaning. “Would you give up your magic to save them?” 

 

Mark kept slicing the strawberries and slid them into a small, plastic container. “They say it’s a fate worse than death, but I think that’s bullshit. It’s like losing any other part of your life--deadly only if you don’t have a support system. I can still cook without magic, or follow recipes. I’ve cleaned the house without magic when I was bored, and I’ve punched people in the street without magic--I know who I’d be without it, and none of you would last without me, so if it was my only option, why the hell not give my magic away? I was born with it, so there’d be an ugly as shit readjusting period, but my power isn’t my personality.” 

 

It was the longest Yugyeom had ever remembered hearing Mark speak outside of arguments, so he knew he touched on something delicate, yet important. Yugyeom had a few different directions to go, with one logical starting point. He set his glass down and hugged Mark from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the top of his head. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll go write some things out in Nora’s room.” 

 

“Burn the evidence...how smart. You really are becoming one of us,” Mark fondly patted his arms after setting the knife down. He delicately picked up another piece of fruit and held it over his shoulder for Yugyeom. “You can’t be fireproofed, so don’t fall asleep in there.” 

 

Yugyeom contently chewed on the sweet and mellow, juicy and fresh strawberry. “I won’t.” He squeezed Mark’s small waist so he felt even smaller and then gave him freedom to focus on whatever recipe he was doing. 

 

Yugyeom gathered a notebook and a pen from his backpack and wandered down the left hall into Nora’s fireproof room. She lived in there more since the entire universe was in a balance shift and Jaebeom’s emotions and power changes were really influencing her behaviors. She nearly set the new couch on fire when Jackson was alone, and he suffered some burns wrangling her into her spacious cage. 

 

She was still excited to see someone, even though both Jaebeom and Bambam visited her often when she was locked up. 

 

When Yugyeom sat down criss-crossed, she took a pretty stance in front of him, letting her back legs hunker down while her front legs were standing straight. Her eyes widened and she followed the movement of his notebook, gaze tracking how the pages flipped. Yugyeom realized she was expecting a treat. 

 

He tapped his pen against the notebook. “You can’t eat this.” 

 

She still cutely wavered on her front paws, tilting her head to the side. 

 

Yugyeom sighed and let his pen roll into the center spine, and he tore a blank page out and crumpled it up. Her ears perked up and the tufts of flames on them burned calmer. “Not food, okay? It cleanses you  _ outside _ .” He touched the paper to his nose, hoping she understood she was supposed to do the same. 

 

As soon as it touched the ground, his fingers barely a safe distance away, she sniffed at it before setting it ablaze with her nose, and the ashes transferred into her flaming fur, immediately clearing some of the smoke. It also balanced some of the more chaotic flickering fur. 

 

He tried to start writing his thoughts out, but she wanted another page and gently swiped her paw towards him, her nails catching on the knee of his pants. “No,” he shook his head. “You’ll get sick and lose your heat if you have too much. After I’m done, I’ll give you more.” 

 

Where a normal cat would whine or pathetically mew, Nora released a high-pitched, broken roar like that of a lion cub. She paced over to his side and nosed at his arm, and pawed at his loose shirt. The heat reached his rune tattoo, and although he wasn’t physically suffering from it anymore, it still ended up as fragile and sensitive skin. He yelped and leaned away from her, her ears already ticking up at the uncomfortable sound. When Yugyeom finally settled again, she seemed to realize what she did, and gave up begging to curl beside his hip after air-kissing his side in apology. 

 

Yugyeom really couldn’t pet her, but he closed his eyes and air-kissed her back so she knew everything was forgiven. 

 

And then he got to noting down his thoughts. He started with the worst of it--emptying his mind of the logical, yet disturbing options Taemin had shown them. Yugyeom knew the best starting point was Youngjae because if Jaebeom offered himself up first, the endings never worked out properly. Yugyeom just had to figure out which future was more attainable, and come up with his own way of bending the rules to fit their circumstances, just as he had been advised to do. 

 

Out of everything, he remembered two particular visions the most. There was one where they found a way back into the witch realm, with Youngjae and Jaebeom still alive, as well as everyone else. They had their magic, but it was a new kind of prison for them within the same strain of what they’d survived so far, but amplified. Jaebeom was still banished from his realm because they were supposed to have  _ saved  _ the king, not bring him back laced with more corruption and darkness. And with the council already gone, Youngjae wasn’t welcomed by the new temporary regime trying to keep the structure of the realm together. With that pathway open, the power of the soul would have to be locked up because leaving Jaebeom and Youngjae to run free without letting go of the soul, the barriers frayed more and they all would fight for nothing. 

 

The other viable option was finding a way to bind both their magic to a strong enough totem until they worked through their problems--until Youngjae learned Jaebeom wasn’t the one to betray him and they could accept being civil with each other. Otherwise, they’d die as mortals and once both were reincarnated, the coven would search for their new lives and give their magic back if there weren’t any lingering grudges inside their hearts. 

 

The common pieces were having a way into the witch realm, and Youngjae’s cooperation. The ghouls had shown Bambam a future where Youngjae controlled portals. Yugyeom knew there had to be some way to localize all the fraying ends and expanding holes of the barriers into one centrally positioned portal to push through to the other realm, but without figuring out how to get Youngjae on their side and unlock his full potential, he’d remain hellbent on destroying everything. There was obviously something besides the piece of the king’s soul residing within Jaebeom that Youngjae wanted. Or needed. 

 

To find proof of the council’s manipulation and gain the king’s trust again, the coven had to know if there  _ was  _ any proof left, and where would it be so if they could harness even a single use, round trip portal, they could grab it and get out within a few hours. They’d need enough evidence to convince Youngjae before he brought all the barriers down and became chaos incarnate. 

 

Yugyeom didn’t know how he was going to provoke Youngjae into remembering the extent of his powers, or how he would even use that to open a portal without him knowing, but it was the only lead he had. 

 

He needed to earn Youngjae’s trust, and help him remember what he had once been capable of. 

 

When Yugyeom ended his train of thoughts, he had about five pages of notes and ramblings, and he stirred Nora so she could make them disappear while also cleansing herself some more. 

 

In order for Youngjae to believe in him, he knew they had to have something in common. Yugyeom was going to play a very dangerous game, but it wasn’t to play the hero or tragically sacrifice himself so everyone else could live. He hoped he was going to survive it, and he prayed everyone involved would have full faith in his decisions. 

 

He dusted himself off outside of Nora’s space, and Jackson was walking towards him. Yugyeom met him in the middle and grabbed his arms. “Hyung, no context, but is there like,  _ any  _ blood poisons you know of? Like a voodoo doll--if you have someone’s blood, you can literally curse them or control them or something? Question from the dark web,” he tried to nervously laugh it off like he wasn’t asking for himself and his plan. 

 

Jackson raised his eyebrows and felt Yugyeom’s forehead for a fever. “You even asked Mark hyung weird things. You good, kid?” 

 

“Please hyung, I said no context. I promise I’m...decent enough, but I  _ need  _ to know if you can make one.” 

 

Jackson sighed and pulled him to the very back wall of his workshop so no one else could hear their conversation. “I don’t know what stupid thing you’re hoping to do, but it can’t involve blood magic.” 

 

“My blood, hyung. Hypothetically, would you do it?” 

 

Jackson nervously paced the border of the room and pushed his hair back multiple times, always pausing to speak before continuing the motions. Eventually, he laid his palm flat on the wall next to Yugyeom’s shoulder, and there was something threatening and dark about his demeanor. Yugyeom stiffened a little because he hadn’t ever seen the blonde quite so ruffled. “ _ No  _ one knows this, okay? But in our realm, I was  _ capable _ of it. I haven’t ever done it, and I never want to, especially since our magic is different here.” 

 

“What’s a time frame on making a curse like that? If you had to.” He hated distressing Jackson even more, but he needed to gather all the intel he could so he was fully prepared for anything. 

 

“Hypothetically,” Jackson hammered into his skull, “about a week? Maybe three days if I didn’t sleep and my magic is still up to par.” 

 

Yugyeom pet Jackson’s hair and kissed his forehead because he did feel guilty bringing up something so deep and terrifying--something obviously against all of Jackson’s personal beliefs on a human level. “I won’t tell anyone, hyung. And I hope you won’t have to make it.” 

 

Jackson curled his hands around Yugyeom’s wrists. “What are you doing, Gyeom?” His eyes glazed over with worry and his voice was concerned enough to nearly break Yugyeom.

 

“I’m not even sure myself.” 

 

Jackson’s body softened and relaxed. He had more questions, but he just tapped Yugyeom’s cheek and told him to survive, and sent him out so he could do what he originally came to his workshop to do. 

 

Yugyeom knew he was on an adrenaline high, but as soon as he saw Bambam on the couch, and Jinyoung and Jaebeom huddling over the same journal in quiet discussion on the loveseat, his high ended. His stomach twisted nervously and the lack of sleep was catching up to him. He needed to ask a lot of them, especially from Jaebeom, if his shell of a plan was going to work. And he didn’t know if Bambam would understand the choices he’d be making, or forgive him for them. 

 

No matter the outcomes, Mark was right. He needed a little more sleep before the final push. Wordlessly, he stretched out on the couch with his head in Bambam’s lap, and his friend rubbed his arms and absently played with his hair until his consciousness drifted. 

  
  


*

 

“Jaebeom, I said  _ no _ .” Jinyoung was placing the last items of clothing in the master bedroom, and he was slamming the drawers, not caring the dresser trembled. 

 

“Just  _ think  _ about it for a fucking minute. I’m the other piece--he wants  _ me _ , and if we  _ just  _ give him that--” 

 

Jinyoung threw a towel on the ground, demanding an end to the conversation. Jaebeom felt like he was going to be murdered just by a narrow, piercing gaze. “Then you die, we die, and the world explodes. Or Youngjae gets your power, you die with us, and the world explodes.  _ Or _ , he convinces you to betray us, we die, and guess what the world does, Jaebeom?” 

 

“Explodes?” Jaebeom winced. 

 

“It  _ fucking  _ explodes!” Jinyoung gestured with his hands and some crude sound effects. “We have to start with Youngjae--I know that, but if we want  _ both  _ of you to live, you’re not the one to take him down.” He bent down to pick up the towel and refolded it, setting it on top of the dresser with a heavy sigh. “It’s going to be a lot of preparation and faulty planning, but it’s too dangerous for you to rush into this alone.” 

 

Jaebeom couldn’t see any other plan being more efficient. They really didn’t know how much time was left on the clock before Youngjae recovered all of his dormant magic, and he figured the faster they did  _ anything _ , the better. “He might trust me, Jinyoungie.” Jaebeom swung his legs off the edge of the bed and rubbed his thighs. 

 

Jinyoung set the empty basket near the closet and faced him, but didn’t walk towards him. “None of the visions we saw indicated that, okay? That’s why I’m saying you’re staying here and not taking jobs alone.” 

 

“Do you even know if the Moon Being was telling the truth?” 

 

Jinyoung scoffed, offended, and paced the short space between the closet and where Jaebeom sat, eventually stopping and exhaling with his whole body. “That’s his home, Jaebeom. The way he was observing us, and advising us--he  _ wants  _ us to succeed.” 

 

Jaebeom was going to try and argue again, either out of habit now or with another concern, but he didn’t get to figure out which it was because Yugyeom was softly knocking on the doorjamb, as if he was interrupting something when they were the stupid ones who left the entrance wide open. 

 

“I can wait,” he mumbled and pointed to the living room.

 

Jinyoung shook his head and motioned for him to join them. “Might as well address ignorance all at once.” 

 

Yugyeom closed the door and tiptoed inside. Jaebeom gathered it was something he didn’t want anyone else to hear, so he soundproofed the area, and felt the door accidentally lock and seal. He hadn’t meant to do that, but he pushed that worry very far away. 

 

“So, um, no context question--” 

 

Jinyoung pointed to the floor in front of him. “If you’re confident enough to ask without context, stand right here.” 

 

It was a test to see if Yugyeom was willing to die for his curiosity again, and unsurprisingly, the younger cooperated, even holding himself with more confidence than Jaebeom ever remembered seeing after he got over his early, defiant phase. 

 

He turned towards Jaebeom, though, and continued. “I know you have some things from your realm, like the robes, but do you have any weapons from there? Something that you used a  _ lot  _ that carries your energy, like a sword or a knife maybe?” 

 

Jinyoung gave him a warning glare, but Jaebeom shrugged because it was all still without context and hypothetical, even though it was obvious the kid was forming the idea of a plan and Jaebeom was willing to give someone else’s recklessness a try; test how long Jinyoung could fight their only plans being reckless ones. “If I did have an item like that, I wouldn’t tell you where I keep it.” 

 

“If I asked you, without context, to injure me with it when I least expect it, would you?” 

 

“Is this some kind of kink thing? Like fake kidnapping or hostage scene play? Because I have other things for that if you wanna sit down--” 

 

Yugyeom wildly waved his hands. “No, hyung. No. Nothing like that.” 

 

Jinyoung slapped his hand over Yugyeom’s shoulder, and shook him a little while shining a tight, deadly grin at him. “What are you planning? Do we not feed you and house you and give you magical items without payment?” 

 

He snapped his head at Jinyoung, not lowering himself in any way. “I said no context, hyung. The plan I’m trying to make doesn’t have room for anyone else to  _ know  _ the plan. Yet.” They had a mini staredown, but Jinyoung blinked first and it was over. “Jaebeom hyung,” he set his eyes on him again, “honestly, as soon as possible, would you do it? I know we’re losing time to make the first move.” 

 

Jaebeom closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then he reached for Yugyeom’s hand. He examined the palm for the way his lines shortened and extended and connected with each other, reading the physical flow of his energy and Jaebeom didn’t sense that a scar would break any of it, or change his soul or his fate drastically. He ran his fingernail across the younger’s palm adjacent to his creases before kissing the back of his hand. Jinyoung was watching him, wide-eyed and betrayed, but if anyone had a chance at surviving a half-assed plan at this point, it was going to be Yugyeom. “If I did, it might not ever heal over, but your nerves would be perfectly fine. It’ll be your empathy that’ll be traumatized. Could you handle it?” 

 

Yugyeom glanced at Jinyoung with a mix between a pout and frown, and his eyebrows drew together when he looked at Jaebeom again. “I have to.” 

 

It must have been the last straw for Jinyoung because he shoved the younger onto the bed and kneeled on his thighs and held his wrists against the bed so he couldn’t even think about escaping. Jaebeom had been in that position before and knew the digging ache Yugyeom was feeling in his legs right now. 

 

“What does it take to just get you shitheads to  _ stay _ ? Tell me what you want, Yugyeom. I’ll do it this time.” He sounded on the verge of tears, and Jaebeom reached up to pet his husband’s hair. 

 

“Jinyoungie, we should let him try. Maybe he’s the real key.” 

 

Yugyeom wasn’t frightened or shocked. He merely caressed Jinyoung’s cheek and tucked some of his hair away, fingers brushing against Jaebeom’s. “Hyung, you were the one who talked to us about loving between the lines first. Remember that?” 

 

Jinyoung put his hand to Yugyeom’s and relaxed his legs so he was more or less straddling the younger’s hips. 

 

“I’m not gonna be a hero. I’m not killing myself to save your lives. Every single way I’ve mapped this out, we all live, even if it fails. Loving includes trust, right?” He loosely wrapped his fingers around Jaebeom’s wrist, and Jaebeom understood he was deeply a part of this conversation, too. “If it works, the rest will be a group effort, but I just need everyone to trust me. Please, hyung.” 

 

Yugyeom’s expression was soft and his words were easy, yet heavy, and Jaebeom couldn’t help but kiss up his arm to soothe some of it away. When he reached his shoulder, Jinyoung leaned down to put his forehead against Yugyeom’s. “I  _ hate  _ you,” he whispered in a tone laced with real grief and loathing, over a foundation of love and fondness. He kissed him, and said it again; bit his lower lip and repeated the words, quieter this time before he turned and relived the pattern all over with Jaebeom. 

 

Instead of being achingly gentle, Jinyoung harshly pulled him in for a rough kiss, biting him even harder until he broke skin and Jaebeom whined. “I hate you, too, but I hate you even more for influencing him.” 

 

Jaebeom dispelled his lover’s anger and brought them both closer to Yugyeom’s face. Yugyeom entwined his hand with Jinyoung’s and pressed his lips to every finger and knuckle. Jinyoung attacked Jaebeom’s sore lips one more time, but he again didn’t match the roughness. “He’s gonna be okay, Jinyoungie,” Jaebeom whispered against him. 

 

“I hate you,” seemed to be the only phrase Jinyoung knew how to say because he said it as Yugyeom caringly kissed him, and Jaebeom nosed along Jinyoung’s neck and jawline, and Jinyoung was too stressed to stop so he grinded against Yugyeom, not forgetting his mantra. In the uncertain, foreboding silence of the room, they let Jinyoung take whatever he wanted to while they praised and reassured him. 

 

*

 

Yugyeom cringed as he felt several ligaments tear and burn apart. He was suddenly spiraling into a prison of stone and suffering, and he was watching Jinyoung get tied up in a town center without many clothes to shield him from the friction of ropes and chains. He saw Mark being thrown against a concrete wall, hard enough for his spine to break through it. Jackson was being dragged through a corridor by a guard with a terrible smirk, and the witch had ash and dirt staining his cheeks and marks on his wrists. Then he saw Jaebeom, pure wrath and anger cutting entire buildings down with just the swipe of a dagger, and all that torture and rage hit Yugyeom too deep and too fast. Coupled with the actual physical sensation of a fresh, large wound and the wetness of blood trying to fix his parted skin, Yugyeom bit back a scream as he dizzily awoke. 

 

His eyes were wide, and he was somehow on the couch instead of a bed, the lights dim around the living room. Yugyeom went to shelter his hand from the searing, throbbing pain and noticed Jaebeom sheathing a luminous dagger. “Go do what I can’t,” he muttered into the stillness of the night.

 

Yugyeom was already lightheaded just sitting up, but he couldn’t fall just yet. Everything was only beginning and he had to remember the adrenaline and shock that would push him further, and the raw strength and perseverance he had locked away. He ignored his bleeding hand a minute to bring Jaebeom down and kiss him with gratitude and warmth and tried to infuse his touch with all the things he hadn’t been able to say. “I’ll come back. I promise, hyung. Thank you...for trusting me.” 

 

Jaebeom held his face with both hands and returned the kiss with fervor, like he wished they had time to make it lead to something more. “You trusted me, I have to trust you. Now go, and don’t bleed on anything.” 

 

Yugyeom had a hard time letting go, so Jaebeom did them both a favor and heartbreakingly disappeared into the library, likely needing to lock his weapon away. Yugyeom worked quickly, first grabbing the nearest cloth to wrap over his wounded hand. He made sure all of his essentials were in his pockets, leaving all of his bags and belongings behind. He even made sure he left his keys, carrying only his phone and wallet out with him. 

 

He glanced around the living room and focused his own loving energy into it, apologizing to the silence and the sleeping minds inside the house before slipping into his shoes, and running out the door. 

 

Yugyeom was going to head towards Youngjae’s apartment first, but he had a strange inkling to check the park instead, even though it was pushing 2AM. He darted over the familiar landscape, breathing heavy, his mind terrified mostly because the shadows around there at night couldn’t be trusted or taken at face value. The deeper he thought of it, the less of a coincidence it seemed that the bench just happened to perfectly the three of them from the very beginning, and that no security--and really no one else--ever approached that area at night or during the busy day hours. Maybe even before the coven, the magic locked within Youngjae was always trying to burst forth and protect those he trusted. 

 

As Yugyeom approached the circle of trees, he heightened his terror and sadness, turning the anxious uncertainty and his need to save Youngjae and the coven into fuel for his acting. He crossed into the territory and just as his gut had told him, the older was sitting there alone. 

 

“Hyung! Youngjae hyung!” Yugyeom made his voice crack and he stopped so abruptly in front of him he basically slid to his knees, keeping a hold on the cloth around his hand and settling them in his lap. He looked up at Youngjae, and he was rightfully guarded. “ _ Please _ , hyung. I was just trying to tell them not to kill you again, but I didn’t think,” Yugyeom cut himself off with heavy breathing, working up his tears. “I thought I was safe, but Jaebeom--he finally…” Yugyeom hung his head and let it fall onto Youngjae’s lap. He anchored himself in the initial shock and betrayal of Jaebum slicing his hand open while he slept. He asked for it, but it didn’t make it any less painful. “I should’ve trusted you, hyung. I should’ve ran away from that place when you did.” 

 

He wasn’t sure if he had voiced enough apologies and genuine hurt, but  Youngjae slipped his fingers into his hair and gently lifted his head, tipping it back so he could read Yugyeom’s gaze. Youngjae’s eyes darkened and his lips thinned into absolute anger. “ _ What  _ did Jaebeom do to you, Gyeom?” 

 

Just like that, Yugyeom had him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay lmk how we all feelin/doin are we okay are you all gonna block me or 
> 
> If you wanna lemme know: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> If you wanna let Anto know: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> And we have the gc open still if ur interested: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	8. Scene VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of tags really matter for this one so pls keep them in mind

There was something unsettling about Youngjae’s confrontation with Yugyeom and Bambam on campus, to the point that he felt stifled and trapped in his own apartment for the first time since hiding and plotting a way to satisfy his revenge. He noticed the natural energy of this world was tilting, and he figured it was better to conserve his energy and do whatever he could to stop accidentally summoning smaller demons and monsters, and save up for a beast that would be an actual challenge for his enemies. 

 

He had no better place to focus his mental efforts on control than his park bench, widely exposed to the quiet night air. He could hear the nearby stream and the breeze diffusing through the leaves above, the moonlight filtering and dispersing along the ground.  

 

As he considered his anger and serene suffering, footsteps rushed over the grass to reach him, Yugyeom’s terrified, panicked voice pleading to him. 

 

“ _ Hyung! _ ” Yugyeom knelt down on the cold, damp ground and hung his head, recovering both his breath and his emotions. 

 

Youngjae held his presence with doubt, expecting this to be some kind of elaborate scheme, but then he heard the one name that shocked his soul--the most disgusting, cold-hearted witch responsible for so much heartache and intimate betrayal on several levels. Youngjae properly observed Yugyeom, noticing it was only his head resting in his lap. The younger was hiding his hands and Youngjae’s stomach dropped and twisted with a sickening sense of small-scale deja vu. 

 

Youngjae narrowed his gaze and hardened voice. “ _ What  _ did he do?” When Yugyeom only buried his head deeper, Youngjae threaded his hands in his hair and and forced their gazes to meet. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, but as soon as he had to face Youngjae, they started to fall. “Tell. Me. What did Jaebeom do, Gyeom?”

 

Yugyeom shakily inhaled, but gathered strength to lift his hands, one keeping pressure on his other palm wrapped in a dark, blood-stained cloth. His poor hands trembled without support, and Youngjae guided them to rest on his thighs. He unwrapped the wound, the slice still bleeding without the makeshift bandage. It glowed with something sinister and when he sniffed it, he cringed knowing for certain it was Jaebeom’s work. The wound was made deeper from Yugyeom’s doubt and confusion. Youngjae knew he wouldn’t be healing without magic and care anytime soon, but he wasn’t sure if he was up for the task of something as precise as healing--or at least stopping the blood flow so the gash had a chance to scab over. He also wasn’t willing to leave Yugyeom with that eternal pulsing, stinging infection. 

 

“They just kept  _ fighting  _ each other about you, a-and they were going to use magic,” Yugyeom brokenly said. “I just couldn’t watch them kill you, hyung. They whispered behind my back--like using blood magic to control me, and then Jaebeom--hyung, he just…while I was  _ sleeping _ , he...” Yugyeom couldn’t explain anymore before the sobs took hold.

 

Youngjae calmly hushed him and pet his hair. “You’re safe now, Yugyeom.” He held Yugyeom’s wounded hand and focused the coolness of the air around them and the moonlight waterfalling through the trees, easing away some of the burning and throbbing sensations so his hand could relax. “You’ll be safe with me.” He leaned down to kiss Yugyeom’s wet cheek, fingers in his hair again. He cradled Yugyeom to his chest and rocked him side to side. “I’m the only hyung you can trust from now on.” 

 

Yugyeom dropped his hands onto the bench and rested his head in his lap again. It was almost like he was bowing and desperately humbling himself. “I was wrong to abandon you, hyung. I’ll make it up to you--do  _ anything _ , just don’t make me go back.” 

 

Youngjae really wanted to keep him locked away forever so nothing else could come for him, but his revenge was still singing and there was no better way to get revenge than inflict the same harm he experienced. If Yugyeom was on his side, he could have him betray the witches at such a pertinent moment, and this whole game would finally end. 

 

Youngjae prompted Yugyeom to unbury himself, and he leaned in until there was less of an inch of space between them. “My sweet Gyeomie, what if the thing I need you to do  _ is  _ go back?” He smirked, washing away his previous doubts and worries over the younger’s pain. It was going to be a wonderful, victorious plan, and he knew Yugyeom could see things his way. Even now, he chose to put his faith in Youngjae because a part of him still desperately wanted his affections and attention. 

 

He put the tip of his finger under Yugyeom’s chin and hushed his tone. “You’d be a  _ good  _ spy if I asked, right? Give you some protection magic like you’ve always wanted and send you on your way? They used violence to cross you, but you’re smarter than that. You could easily press their buttons with only a few words.” He tilted Yugyeom’s head back a little and closed the distance again, their lips nearly touching. “You’d do it for me--for  _ us-- _ wouldn’t you, Gyeom-ah?” 

 

Yugyeom’s eyes widened in absolute fear and panic. He tried to shake his head, but Youngjae held his chin so he couldn’t avoid him. “They’ll hurt me, hyung. I-if they find out and if they really did make a blood curse to control me,” another sob wracked through his body and he placed the backs on his hands on Youngjae, desperately pleading for a way out of the request. “What if they find me out and the protection magic doesn’t work, hyung? What if they kill me?” His hands were shaking so much that Youngjae he could feel their weight shifting and vibrating against his legs. 

 

“We’ll have time to plan  _ everything _ . Hyung’ll get you cleaned up, and then we’ll answer all your precious little questions.” He kissed the corner of his lips and dragged his finger down Yugyeom’s adorable nose. He carefully wiped his wet cheeks with the extra fabric of his sleeves, and then properly tied the cloth around his oozing palm. He made sure the younger could stand up from his knees without feeling lightheaded and numb, and then Youngjae joined him on his feet and tightly held his good hand. 

 

Youngjae took them on a stroll out of the park and towards his apartment. They stopped at a 24-hour drugstore for gauze and medical tape; Youngjae only had small bandaids and alcohol in his empty first-aid cabinet at home, and even if he could manage to stop the blood, he’d need to trap the rest of the healing energy inside like an antibiotic using gauze and tape. If he pushed his healing magic too far, there was a possibility he’d end up accidentally severing Yugyeom’s entire hand off, and for the younger to keep his renewed trust, and for Youngjae’s plans to work, he’d need to keep both hands intact. 

 

The cashier gave them odd looks about the wrapped hand, and the fact that Youngjae was holding Yugyeom so tightly while he was still working through his panic. Normally, he respected service workers, but he didn’t have time for ones that outwardly couldn’t mind their own business. So before she tried to ask anything, he thought about his bubbling hunger and stared directly into her eyes, transferring it onto her. “You’re too hungry to remember us once we’re gone. If your coworker asks about us, you’ll have no idea what they’re talking about.” While he told her this, he flashed a friendly smile for the cameras, and dug his wallet out. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m just suddenly  _ really  _ hungry,” she said when her stomach growled and echoed off the aisle ways. 

 

Youngjae slapped a bill down that would cover the cost and some extra. “Donate the rest to charity. Have a nice midnight snack, too,” he nodded and walked them back out with their items. 

 

Yugyeom eyed him curiously, obviously never having seen something like that except for in shows and movies they always watched together. 

 

Youngjae shrugged. “She was about to subtly ask you about domestic violence or if you got into a street fight. She planned to call for help after we left. It’d be too late, but still unnerving. Discovered that fun little trick of persuasion at a bar recently, though. Kind of cool, right?” 

 

Yugyeom squeezed his hand tighter. “What happened at the bar?” 

 

“Some girl said I looked like a  _ very  _ good boy, so I showed her just how  _ good  _ I was by breaking all the bottles of alcohol. I blamed it on her and she repeated my words, so I tested it with the bartender and asked him to forget what I did. He poured me one last shot and then I left.” Youngjae turned abruptly to point at him with the hand holding onto Yugyeom. “In case you’re wondering, there isn’t enough alcohol in this entire world to heal betrayal or the resurgence of memories and magic. So we will have a  _ very  _ sober time in my apartment.” He finally put their hands down. 

 

“What about your magic? Wasn’t it more chaotic while you were drunk?” 

 

Youngjae started their stroll again, avoiding a few homeless people and a few late-comers waiting for the buses to begin their AM routes. “Hence the entire wall of shattered alcohol. I only wanted to spill her glass onto her lap and ruin her perfectly new, luxury branded dress.” He fidgeted with the grocery bag around his wrist, bending his arm so it fell to his elbow; angling it down until the handles hooked on his wrist again. “If I drank at home, I’d be worried about Coco and the landlady. They haven’t hurt me, so they shouldn’t be punished.” 

 

“I hope Coco doesn’t hate me,” Yugyeom muttered to himself. 

 

“She’ll watch me fix you up and she’ll trust you.” Youngjae brought their entwined hands to his face so he could rub the back of Yugyeom’s hand against his cheek. He caught his gaze and smiled. “She trusts things that smell like me.” 

 

Yugyeom darted his eyes away and hung his head, something complex and shy coloring his ears and cheeks. 

 

Youngjae was content with their conversation and led them the rest of the way to his apartment. Coco was already waiting for him in front of the door, hopping on her back legs with excitement. He let go of Yugyeom’s hand to reach down and pet her, bopping her on the nose and chin while grinning with soft fondness. She was predictably unsure about Yugyeom; it had been too long since they’d spent quality time with each other, and a lot had happened since she last saw him. 

 

Youngjae invited him to get comfortable on the couch while he set the bag down beside him, and grabbed the rubbing alcohol from his cabinet because that wound needed to be as disinfected as possible. The items in this realm weren’t going to be enough to get rid of the sickly glowing poison in it, but Youngjae hoped he could muster enough silent energy to dispel the magic before letting human remedies scab it over. 

 

He opened the box of gauze and readied the medical tape. He readied cotton balls for the rubbing alcohol, and then he dragged a chair over from his kitchen table so he could sit directly in front of Yugyeom and set his injured hand on his lap. “Everything is going to hurt, Gyeomie. If I end up cutting your hand off, or wrecking the nerves completely until it’s numb, I’m really sorry and that’s  _ not  _ my intention.” 

 

Yugyeom wrapped his fingers around his wrist and steadied his gaze. “It’s okay, hyung. Whatever happens, I won’t blame you. You’re helping me when no one else will, and I’m really thankful. Even if it goes wrong, I’ll still be here, trusting only you.” 

 

The soft, pointed way he said the words as if they were so natural--as if he had been thinking about his wrong for a long time and always dreamt of returning to Youngjae’s side--grounded his belief in himself. Even if he hadn’t been raised with magic in this life, and it was dropped upon him almost all at once, he still had reason to control it. He was worried missing the mark for Yugyeom would mean losing track of the energy altogether, risking Coco’s life, and the landlady’s life, and all the other apartment tenants he didn’t even know the names of. If he couldn’t protect someone dear to him again, he’d just escape back to the void and play this game all over in a new cycle, or simply have the planet implode upon itself until no trace of its existence remained. 

 

He breathed deep, going in first with alcohol swabs while he built up faith in his magic. Yugyeom untied the cloth, hissing as the fresh air cooled it a little. Youngjae held Yugyeom’s wounded hand firm and open and gently dabbed the alcohol along his palm, using a new cotton ball every couple of dabs because of how much blood he was having to clean off. Yugyeom was whimpering and tensing his arm from the stings, and Youngjae kept softly shushing him like he was merely a child getting over a fever. 

 

Once it was clear of mortal germs and Youngjae could actually see the depths of the slice, he supported the back of Yugyeom’s hand in both his palms. He hooked his thumbs over Yugyeom’s thumb and pinky, forcing a more direct connection for their energies to pass through. He heavily stared at the offending injury, turning his rage and irritations towards Jaebeom and his knack for always being a traitor into pure hope for healing the harm done to Yugyeom. He allowed the untethered desperate need to tug and anchor in his chest, and he envisioned burning out the luminous torment pulsing and keeping the wound open and alive; envisioned the wound stitched up and smaller. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ , hyung, it burns. It’s on fucking fire, I can’t--” Yugyeom was curling towards him, on the verge of tears and trying not to absolutely scream. 

 

Youngjae saw there was no actual fire, and wrapped his thumbs tighter for reassurance. “Come on, baby, just a little more okay? It’s almost over. Don’t be afraid to hold onto me.” 

 

Yugyeom hunched over as far as he could, breathing sharp against his legs and completely stretching Youngjae’s shirt out with his grip. “Hyung, please,” he whined again. 

 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

 

Youngjae thought of  _ cold _ . Of water and ice and numbness, and the fresh Winter air that always cleared his breath before straining his lungs. He saw ponds freeze over in timelapse, and he carefully blew along the wound as if he controlled that glacial power with his own breath. Yugyeom mewled in pain between his cries, and Youngjae dropped a kiss over his palm, drawing himself back into reality. He opened his eyes to see, thankfully, Yugyeom’s hand was still attached and his fingers were twitching. The harsh slice hadn’t shrunk in size because of scarring, but he had successfully healed over half of it, and mostly scabbed over the inner part of the wound. 

 

Youngjae used one hand to grab the gauze, opening it with his teeth and fingers. He placed the sterile pad over Yugyeom’s entire palm, and taped it securely around his hand. He could move and flex it without disturbing the clotted blood, or worrying about the gauze peeling off. 

 

Youngjae pet his hair as soon as it was all finished. “You did so good, Gyeomie. You’re so strong. Just breathe now, it’s okay. It’s all over.” 

 

Yugyeom could only cry and fist his shirt harder, releasing the last of his pain and fear. When he sat up again, Youngjae supported him so he wouldn’t fall to the side. The younger just stared blankly into space for a while, recovering his mind and his body, and when he focused again, he regarded Youngjae with confusion and curiosity and awe. 

 

He wrapped his good hand around Youngjae’s. “You said baby.” 

 

If that was honestly all Yugyeom took away from their ordeal, Youngjae was truly lucky. And relieved. “I’ll say it again if you’d like.” 

 

He half nodded, and then changed his mind and shook his head. “For now, can I just…” He waved his bandaged hand in the air. “Process? Process the healing and the--the thing you want me to do? My world is spinning and I swear there’s like five of you.” 

 

Sleeping was good for recovery anyway, and speeding up Yugyeom’s cells probably exhausted him more than he could imagine. So he dried Yugyeom’s face and pushed his hair off his sticky, sweaty forehead, and nodded. “I’ll get a damp towel.” Youngjae stood up and then had a tiny, wiggling nugget of doubt. “You’re not going to use this as an opportunity to run away, are you?” 

 

Yugyeom looked offended. “Where would I run away to? I’m safest with you, hyung, and it’s so quiet here. I just wanna sleep for seventy years.” He closed his eyes and relaxed into the sofa. “Should’ve just slept here this whole time.” 

 

Youngjae told himself he was only doubting him because he was used to always getting hurt by everyone he loved at one point or another, but he convinced himself Yugyeom was going to be different. He brought him a damp cloth from the bathroom; Yugyeom stretched out as much as he could on the sofa, propping his back against the arm so he could fully extend his legs, and Youngjae laid the cloth on his forehead. He patted it over his own cheeks and neck while Youngjae grabbed a throw blanket for him to use in case the cold spell had spread further than the wound. 

 

“I’ll make sure the sunlight won’t wake you. Sleep as long as you need.” He was going to turn off the lights and leave it at that, but Yugyeom caught his wrist. 

 

“Hyung,” his eyes spoke of a gratitude no words could really describe. “After I wake up, let’s eat together and talk about everything, okay?” 

 

“Want chocolate milk before eating?” Youngjae wasn’t even forcing his kindness and hospitality. It was a routine they’d done several times before all of the disasters and chaos, only now it had a dark undertone of bribery--giving Yugyeom the things he liked so he’d stay and carry out revenge for the both of them. 

 

“If you have it?” 

 

Youngjae’s face softened and he ruffled the younger’s hair. “Hyung’ll get it for you.” He kissed Yugyeom’s cheek, and nose, and didn’t shy away from his lips. Under everything, he was relieved he hadn’t injured Yugyeom more with trying to heal him. Yugyeom pushed into the kiss, craving the warm affection after having it all drained from his body, but Youngjae wasn’t going to take them there, yet. 

 

It wasn’t the time. 

 

“Just sleep. Let your hand and emotions recover.” He untangled himself and switched off the lights, double checking all the curtains were blacked and closed, and in the darkness, he listened to Yugyeom rustling and shifting on the sofa until he found a comfortable position and stilled, presumably giving himself up to the early morning. 

 

Youngjae didn’t feel any doubt now about Yugyeom staying, so he went to find Coco and tell her everything was okay. 

  
  


*

  
  


Yugyeom lost count as to how many nightmares he had during his single fit of sleep. There was haunting childhood laughter ringing in his ears, and a loudly colorful market fading into the daunting greys and off-whites of a castle square and its matching inner corridors. There was endless whispering echoing off the walls, and he couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying but he just  _ knew  _ the words were about him. He was anxious and sick trying to decide who he could talk to, and then he was sitting in a multi-tiered room, robes on his shoulders weighing heavier than every school backpack he’d ever carried-- _ combined _ . He was being told by a faceless man with a white, braided beard that the road of a king was always meant to be a lonely one, and it was simply unfortunate that he learned that truth the hard way. 

 

He had just given everything of himself away, and more, but it was never enough and it was never going to be enough unless he became a different,  _ powerless _ person. 

 

And then he was facing the others in a garden with a disgustingly white backdrop and wilting flowers and greenery, a bird insistently chirping in an open cage, not realizing there was an escape right there. 

 

He decided he wasn’t going to be caged anymore, and fell into an endless blackness where he couldn’t even hear the silence. 

 

Yugyeom woke up with a gasp, his limbs frozen at first and he thought the Night Terror had finally come for him again, but he curled his fingers into his palm, feeling his nails dig into the skin on one and rub against the rough gauze on the other. He slowly woke his muscles up and calmed himself down. 

 

He figured his empathy had been fed from Youngjae’s healing, picking up bits of the soul’s memories and emotions with whatever energy he had harnessed. Yugyeom had always planned to be sent back, so he wasn’t worried about that. He knew Youngjae almost as well as he knew himself, and especially when his only focus was wrecking the coven, Yugyeom had all the right material to become a double-crosser. 

 

But he hadn’t exactly mapped out a failure. If he ever refused Youngjae, or if he ever did something to incur his wrath, Yugyeom really had no idea what would happen. Well, he had some idea now. If Youngjae had the power to heal like that, and disappear into the void, he certainly had the power to make Yugyeom’s heart a literal ticking bomb and send him back to the coven to blow them all up. 

 

He had only really focused on trying to find what might calm Youngjae down enough to not want to explode the world at every turn, and help him regain his full potential. The key was to get to the witch realm, and Youngjae was their only possibility. He was left with failure and dread on his mind, and he suddenly regretted ever playing this game. 

 

“Except it’s not a game,” he whispered to himself. 

 

He managed to get up off the couch, a little sleepy and unstable, but he heard Youngjae recanting some kind of spell and he stumbled towards the sound. He reached the hall entrance in what seemed like no time at all, and contemplated returning to the couch, but Youngjae had already taken notice. He called to him, voice eerily light and positive. Yugyeom didn’t have another choice, so he followed his voice around the hall and into a room with all the furniture against the walls so the center was widely spacious and empty. 

 

Yugyeom padded into the middle where he was sitting and crouched down beside him. There was a triangle in front of him, filled with void and ash. The mix of simple and complex materials gave birth to a glowing white bird, near translucent with iridescent wings. It reminded Yugyeom of the moonlight on easy ocean waves, emitting a meditating calmness. 

 

“It’s so beautiful, hyung.” 

 

Yugyeom had been made to think Youngjae’s magic under the influence of broken relationships and corruption could only summon dark, deadly things. But maybe it was only because he was perpetually angry that his magic didn’t get a chance to shine with its original intentions. He remembered Jaebeom with his magic, saying it was made for destruction, but he trained himself to do better things with it. Yugyeom saw now how the two were a balance of each other--what one wielded effortlessly, the other had to force themselves to. If one was working with dark magic, the other’s light magic would be stronger. 

 

So from this, Yugyeom couldn’t help but wonder if there was still a deep part within Youngjae--within the king’s soul--who yearned for the glorious and beautiful magic he once commanded. 

 

Yugyeom sat down, folding himself as small as possible, but Youngjae motioned for him to sit comfortably. He crossed his legs and let his knees fall to the floor. 

 

“Magic like this is  _ weak _ ,” Youngjae said with a tight, pained smile. He quickly lost it and grit his teeth. “A dove is beautiful, but it is not deadly.” 

 

Yugyeom wanted to counter him and tell him how gorgeous and meaningful they were, and that before all of this, he had a growing crush on him. He wanted to tell him that even now he thought of the time all seven of them were in bed, Jaebeom treating Youngjae like he was fragile and special. His heart ached to see him content like that again. 

 

Youngjae was beautiful, too, and he had the chaotic power to snap Yugyeom in half without even touching him. 

 

Yugyeom sidled closer and bumped their elbows together. “Maybe alone they’re not deadly,” he said, circling his hand loosely around Youngjae’s wrist, “but what if you have two?” 

 

Youngjae glanced at him with surprise, and then he was whispering a spell to birth another bird, a perfect match and partner. 

 

Yugyeom leaned his head on Youngjae’s shoulder and watched the two glowing birds walk around their small triangle, and as they hopped around the border, the triangle slowly expanded to meet the needs of the two special creatures. 

 

“Whatever you need, hyung, I’m your second dove.” He kissed the back of Youngjae’s hand and swallowed any fear of failure and death, dedicating the motivation and energy he had left to helping Youngjae clear the path enough to get back to his throne. 

  
  


~*~ 

 

Jaebeom understood very well he’d face repercussions for his actions, but he didn’t know he’d be up against a literal wall listening to all three witches scolding and yelling at him. There was a sick part of him that suddenly understood how the king must have felt when they backed him into a corner, speaking all at once and explaining how they were supposed to be on the same side. It was different because Jaebeom was the one to do wrong against his three members, but being in this position made him want to do irrational things with his magic to get out of it. Too bad he didn’t command the void. 

 

“If everyone would  _ kindly  _ shut the  _ fuck  _ up and listen to me.” 

 

“You haven’t brought that dagger out since we  _ arrived  _ here. What were you even thinking?” Jackson threw his hands in the air to dramatize his exasperation. 

 

“That shit never heals right, Jaebeom. If Youngjae doesn’t kill him, that wound will,” Mark said, actually sounding half-worried. 

“Youngjae is going to  _ break  _ him. You were reckless and you  _ let  _ him be reckless even though it is the  _ one  _ thing I told you not to do, Jaebeom. The one thing!” 

 

He gritted his teeth and growled low in his throat, punching into the wall behind him. There was a terrifying crash in the living room, and Nora was roaring very loudly to match Jaebeom’s distress; Bambam vaguely groaned about the television. Everyone went quiet, so Jaebeom stated his position again. 

 

“You all done? Great, good. Because I  _ said  _ he’d be coming back. I don’t fucking know his plan, so don’t ask me, but I know he didn’t take it lightly. So I didn’t potentially cut his hand off without trusting him. As soon as possible to him literally meant as soon as fucking possible. What else am I supposed to do, huh?” The three of them slowly stepped away and Jaebeom finally had space to leave the wall. “We can’t do anything because I might trigger the king’s chaos, and he hates you guys enough to actually kill you on sight, and Bammie can’t do it because he already stood up to him after getting his  _ face  _ eaten off!” 

 

“More like ripped off, layer by layer until my nerves numbed from the insufferable pain, but close enough, hyung!” Bambam chimed in from the couch. 

 

“Bam has my rune, though,” Jackson defended. “Maybe he really could have gone after him again.” 

 

“Do you want good things for your sugar baby, or do you want to risk him returning without limbs and a heartbeat?” 

 

“It’s actually  _ flower _ baby, since it all began with the Sunsift, hyung--” 

 

“Bambam, I swear to  _ god _ ,” Jaebeom sneered. 

 

Jackson was squishing his own cheeks. “He’s so cute.” 

 

“Okay, no, not the time for an emotion switch, Jackson. Drag your ass out of this fucking house if you can’t be serious.” 

 

Jackson dropped the cute act and stepped into his personal bubble, eyes concentrated and mouth tight. “I  _ am  _ being serious. He’s stronger than we give him credit for.” 

 

“And so is Yugyeom.” 

 

Jinyoung pulled Jackson back and crossed his own arms, shaking his head disappointedly at Jaebeom. “Now I’m not sure whether to believe Yugyeom did this alone, or if you  _ suggested  _ he do something.” 

 

“Did you guys just  _ collectively  _ decide not to trust my decisions?” He was angry and petty and needing to release more of his baggage for once, and he didn’t care how shallow of a comparison it was. “You are really putting me in the same state as my ex-lover and our current enemy. The only difference is  my betrayal was beneficial--and consensual. And this doesn’t end with me slipping into the void.” 

 

“ _ No _ , Jaebeom, that’s not--” Jinyoung was so beside himself he let out one maniacal sounding laugh, nervously combing his hair back. “Don’t make this something it’s not.” 

 

Mark and Jackson were suddenly creating distance, leaving the two of them to duel it out. 

 

“The teams are unevenly numbered, there’s doubt and the possibility of letting Yugyeom betray the entire house--what’s so different, Jinyoung?” Jaebeom didn’t care for the power game he was playing, but it was too late to change the rules and get them to see his perspective. 

 

“He’s just acting  _ too  _ much like you.” 

 

Jaebeom threw his head back, hating the reality but no longer afraid of it. “He’s acting  _ better  _ than me, Jinyoung. I was about to kneel in front of Youngjae and tell him to take the rest his soul back, and take my life if it helped him move on and leave this coven alone.” He crouched down and hung his head, gathering his thoughts before speaking again. “Look, the kid walks a strange line between us. He’s human, but he can absorb some magic for his own use. He loves us, but he loves Youngjae, too. And he’s probably going to earn his trust and make the rest of his plan up.” He tilted his gaze to meet Jinyoung’s, his lover caught between walking away and wishing more suffering upon him. “He promised me, Jinyoungie. I know he’s gonna come back.” 

 

Jinyoung didn’t reply. He narrowed his eyes and softly kicked the wall next to Jaebeom. “Sleep somewhere else tonight.” And then he turned and laid claim to the entire master bedroom. Mark and Jackson were on the fence about comforting him or following Jinyoung’s footsteps so he didn’t knock them down, too, so they eventually just apologized and ran towards another private bedroom. 

 

Jaebeom wandered into the living room and saw the consequences of his actions. The television, along with the mount, had ripped off the wall and crashed onto the floor, leaving glass particles all over the wood, and a disgusting hole in their plaster. That was something he didn’t feel like fixing, but there was enough time in the evening to go buy a new television and leave it in the box since Mark was likely to fix the living room first thing in the morning. 

 

“Feel like going out?” Jaebeom sighed. 

 

Bambam glanced at him from where he was curled in a ball on the couch and swung his legs off the edge. “Why not?” 

 

And then they went to buy a new television at 7PM, as many other normal people did. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Youngjae knew he couldn’t keep Yugyeom for much longer without the coven becoming suspicious. He was regretful over some things, but he’d be sure to dispel the negativity by doing whatever was best for Yugyeom now. 

 

They had a long discussion about the different ways their situation could succeed or fail, and either way it went, they would both need to keep their lives, even out of spite. Because they deserved to have the last attack in this battle, and Youngjae was going to force the coven to listen to their wretched tale over and over until they surrendered. But Yugyeom’s geode wasn’t a force of protection; it was a mere emotional connection that was of little consequence, and wouldn’t aid him in keeping his body and soul intact. 

 

He had Yugyeom laying on the floor of his living room, a bowl of water at his head and a stalk of foxglove resting near his feet.  It wasn’t the best floral representative of health protection, especially since it had poisonous properties when ingested, but it was the only one readily available, growing in a small patch of nearby neglected land. He simply cut it right off after going to the store for chocolate milk, and hoped his power could do the rest. 

 

He drew a crude, pointed border from the bowl connecting to each of the younger’s hands and rippling down around his feet to the top and bottom of the flower. “Remember what I said?” 

 

Yugyeom closed his eyes and forced his breaths to come in steady intervals before answering. “It won’t hurt, but there’ll be an uncomfortable shifting.” 

 

Not of bones and blood, but of the energy and aura surrounding him. Placing this level of protection onto someone meant room for error, or abnormalities. For Yugyeom, it’d be a push against a pull, like two positive magnets desperately dancing around to flip one over to negative so they could be a frightful pair. The spell would either hover outside the colors of his aura, relying more on the chakra points to stay rooted, or it would cover him like invisible cloth, becoming a physical armor ready to lash out and restrain any foreign object. He could still be stabbed, or shot, or slapped and punched, but the damage done would be far less and hopefully act as a patch until he could call for a rescue. 

 

Youngjae crouched and put one knee on the ground for balance, styling Yugyeom’s hair out of his face. “I’d rather be able to stand with you, but they already know who I am. I can’t deceive them like you will.” 

 

“It’s okay, hyung. This is  _ your  _ magic, so in a way, you’ll be with me.” 

 

Youngjae clearly saw where he went wrong with his inability to fall romantically in love with his friend, but with his loyalty redeemed and the soft way he spoke of darker matters, Youngjae was fighting a sense of lustful possession, not unlike what his love for Jaebeom spiraled into. It was less intense without the pure hate and anger attached and twisted into it. He wanted to hear Jaebeom screaming his name as he cut into his flesh with his own luminous, despised blade, letting the torture drag on for a millenia because death was not an equal punishment for his crimes. 

 

And with Yugyeom, he just wanted to tie him to the bed or draw a spell on the wall so he couldn’t move away from his restraints, and then he’d unravel him in the most common ways possible. He wanted to keep hearing Yugyeom pledge his devotions--moan his name like a plea until he reached enlightenment, and after coming back from fucking around with the coven, Yugyeom would know that absolutely no one else could make him feel the way Youngjae did. For Yugyeom, it would be loyalty and love, and for Youngjae it would come from lust and restored trust. 

 

They were both betrayed by a common enemy, and Youngjae briefly stopped fighting his emotions because that was a good enough reason to validate his desires. 

 

“Even before this, you’ve been so good to me, Gyeom. I should’ve seen it earlier--how you’d do anything to stay beside me.” He dragged his fingernail over the squishy curve of Yugyeom’s cheek, smiling to himself at how easily the skin bloomed red. “It’s time I return the favor.”

 

His nail snagged on the younger’s lips, but he looked eager and close to whining. They had to finish their first priority before he could steal Yugyeom’s moans. He ran his finger along Yugyeom’s bottom lip as if he were applying a lip balm, and when he tried to suck it into his mouth, Youngjae tutted and pulled away. He stood and waited for the blood to circulate through his legs so he wasn’t stepping on needles or feeling unbalanced, and then he firmly placed one foot on either side of Yugyeom’s hips. 

 

“I’ll do this, and then give you something  _ special _ , okay?” 

 

He swallowed hard, but nodded. 

 

“Good answer. You ready for me to start?”

 

He wiggled out his limbs a little and bowed his back off the floor--a sickening crack along his spine echoing across the room--and then he signaled to go. 

 

Youngjae deeply inhaled and steeled his expression, lips finely pressed together and eyes slightly lowered. He reached his hands up, and then stretched them out to their full wingspan on either side. He filtered through the white noise of the appliances and the vacuum in the apartment above him; the pipes that kept the building alive and useful, rammed directly into the ground, and from them, he drew spirals into the air to bring that metallic system into the open air around them. He whispered and gestured until the wet energy was something sentient and maneuverable, carefully handling the globe with one hand, and then using his other to coerce the toxins of the foxglove out, and cutting off a single bell to give it a nice dose of floral fuschia. 

 

The two energies made physical swirled around each other, refusing to meld into a single entity until Youngjae pulled two droplets of water from the bowl. It cleared out the level of toxins and rusted undertones of the metal, and fused the remaining energies together to create a new stubborn immunity. Youngjae let the light pink, watery globe hover over Yugyeom’s throat, and the globe itself decided to best way in was to surround his frame within the crude lines. The floor appeared damp, but little specks like dust mites in slime began to slide their way closer, but stopped at his clothes. 

 

They were going to merge with his aura instead of his flesh. 

 

Youngjae figured they’d have the same results either way, but this would just require a little more upkeep. At least the good thing about a protection spell within an aura was that the magician who create it had the power to see its remaining life span, or if there had been too much damage done for a simple repair spell. 

 

Yugyeom was doing his best not to fight the similar polarities, jaw tense but his eyes probably counting the dust spots on the ceiling. The foxglove at his feet was dried and drained of color, and the rest of the water evaporated to make it easier for the sentient spell to burrow into his aura. The lights in the apartment flickered three times, the appliances in his kitchen clicking off once and then immediately whirring back to life. 

 

And with the electric connections established, the spell flipped its polarity and disappeared, the last of the dampness drying and taking the crude outlines with it. Yugyeom breathed heavily, near gasping, and Youngjae helped sit him up. 

 

“I have  _ never  _ wanted to crawl out of my own body that badly,” he said while clinging onto Youngjae until his fingers paled. 

 

Youngjae held him against his chest and waited for his heartbeat to regulate. “Perfect, Gyeomie. It was so perfect--you didn’t even twitch!” 

 

Yugyeom turned his head to hide in Youngjae’s shirt. “You said it was better if I didn’t.” 

 

He did, but he wasn’t expecting Yugyeom to actually have that deep of control over his body. He remembered a time in the old realm of using a similar ritual for Mark, and the servant grunted and cursed, moving his limbs against the polarity of the spell. It was perhaps a shame then that it didn’t work, but he saw the truth and thanked the laws of their realm for not seeing the lowly cleaning witch as something worthy and necessary to protect. 

 

“Your geode should be ashamed of refusing its healing powers. You have excellent control.” Youngjae swung a leg over Yugyeom, a passionate need boiling over inside now that he could study him directly, and feel the heat radiating from his chest. It hit a spot of comfort that Youngjae had been without for too long, and he didn’t want to ignore it. “Wish I could give you some of my power.” And then it dawned on him what the real outcome of their plan could be. He caressed Yugyeom’s face, kissing the tip of his nose, the softness of his cheek, pausing at the shell of his ear. “You could own the power Jaebeom owns.” 

 

“ _ Hyung _ ,” Yugyeom’s voice trembled and he gripped his hips. 

 

“He has the other piece of me, Gyeomie. If we can rip it out, I’ll give it to you.” Youngjae leaned slightly away to watch Yugyeom piece their future together in a wild array of triumph and satisfaction. He placed his thumb in the middle of Yugyeom’s bottom lip and gently pushed down. It was a mistake to practically seduce himself by parting Yugyeom’s smooth pink lips, but he could tell he wasn’t alone in falling down that intimate rabbit hole. “My sweet Yugyeom, we could be two  _ kings _ . Don’t you want hyung to craft you a pretty crown?” 

 

He didn’t answer verbally, but he was flushed down past his shirt collar, eyes a little hooded and he took Youngjae’s wrist, sucking his fingers into his mouth. 

 

They wouldn’t just reclaim the skies. 

 

They were going to reclaim their realms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do we think
> 
> heres me: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> heres anto: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> And we have the gc open still if ur interested: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	9. Scene IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot happens so pls keep tags in mind thx

Yugyeom was in a daze. An emotional one--not a mental one. Mentally, he was only fucked up by his rash decision to be put in the middle of a magic skirmish, but emotionally, he was currently reminding himself how much Youngjae  _ and  _ the coven meant to him. This plan was to keep the warring sides from ever meeting and destroying each other before there was some huge realization and introspection on the matter. But he hadn’t taken the time to think about Youngjae’s position, or how he’d get attached again so quickly. 

 

Or even how fast he reacted with desperation when Youngjae’s full attention was on him. 

 

It was almost overwhelming, and entirely confusing and complex, and half his brain shorted out trying to process the last 24 hours as very strict categories. 

 

Obviously it didn’t work. 

 

Youngjae  _ believed  _ him. Youngjae blessed him with a protection spell. Youngjae said Yugyeom was  _ his _ , and desired him a king. Yugyeom wasn’t even from that realm, or descended from royal blood in this one, but Youngjae now entrusted his whole existence to him, which was once what he had done with Jaebeom. 

 

Youngjae had kissed him until their lips were almost numb and begging to fall off, and when he told Yugyeom to return and begin his life of lies, he kissed him against the door even rougher, promising to take their escapades further when Yugyeom behaved. And his special gift  _ was  _ the physical contact, Youngjae imparting a small dot of his energy so if Yugyeom was in a dire situation, he would feel it in his own nerves and locate him with ease. 

 

He really wasn’t going to let Yugyeom get hurt. 

 

A part of him felt apologetic towards Bambam--he alone suffered while his best friend and his ex-friend were perfectly safe from deadly encounters. Yugyeom still didn’t understand how the witches’ powers could differ so much, and that even with all their magic combined, the coven still didn’t have a foolproof way of deterring the attacks. He didn’t hold it against them, but he found it odd that Jaebeom, part of the same soul implanted in his body, couldn’t harness his magic for a preemptive protection spell. 

 

In his trance of overthinking, he didn’t realize he’d made it back home until he was walking the porch stairs and turning the knob. The door thankfully pushed in, and creaked loud into the spacious living room, He saw Jinyoung ready to break his bones, individually, in order of importance. Slowly, everyone else gathered at the edges of the hallways and the kitchen, Bambam plopping on the couch to watch the shitshow in comfort and style, and Jaebeom sidled beside Jinyoung to keep him somewhat level headed. 

 

“Did you  _ really  _ think you could just ask us very specific  _ no context _ questions without assuming what you’re doing?” 

 

Yugyeom swallowed harshly, but closed the door softly and ignored Jinyoung’s rage in place of setting his bag down and sitting on the other end of the couch. “Look, I had a plan, and the plan failed. It never even started,” he lied, exaggerating his exhaustion. 

 

“No, Yugyeom, okay? No.” Jinyoung strode closer, hands primed to wring his neck, but Jaebeom held the back of his collar and made him take a delicate seat on the coffee table. He petulantly huffed, glaring at Jaebeom and it was obvious he was debating a divorce. He turned back to Yugyeom, accusatory and doubtful. “I  _ know  _ you went to see Youngjae, against our wishes. Not sure why you needed to lose a hand for it, so maybe you should  _ explain _ before I seal you out of this house.” 

 

This was  _ exactly  _ why he had to lie. Because they had been just as hurt by the king not trusting them and by people using them in this realm that the moment a being acted against them, they couldn’t be on their side anymore. The moment Yugyeom told the truth was the moment they had grounds to kill him for treason.

 

Yugyeom challenged Jinyoung’s gaze and dared him to try banishing him. “I went to my  _ mother’s  _ house, hyung. I’ve been too fucking immersed in  _ your  _ world that I needed another look at mine. For once.” 

 

Bambam glanced at him so fast he cracked his neck, eyes wide and warning. Bambam probably knew everything he had tried to plan out, and Jinyoung and Jaebeom had an inkling about it, but he still had to carry on. There was no truth yet he even wanted to tell. 

 

“What about your hand?” Jinyoung grabbed it before Yugyeom could flinch, and unwrapped the gauze and bandage. Yugyeom hoped the healing magic on it hadn’t reeked of Youngjae, too. The skin was still knitting together near the inner core of the slice, but the rest of it was already scarred and scabbed over. Jinyoung threw his hand and it whacked against the couch. “Healed,” he sneered. He stood up and paced, having a tragic crisis. 

 

Yugyeom gently squeezed his hand to apologize to his fingers for Jinyoung’s actions. 

 

“It’s  _ healed _ , Yugyeom! How the  _ fuck  _ is it healed if you didn’t run over to Youngjae’s, huh? You are the only one stupid enough to walk into a rabid lion’s den.” 

 

Jackson loudly gasped and screamed, pointing to Yugyeom’s scarred hand and then to himself. “ _ That’s  _ why?!” 

 

Everyone was piecing their questions together, and this is not at all what Yugyeom needed. 

 

Jinyoung sharply turned to the blonde. “That’s why  _ what _ , Jackson?” 

 

Not even a nickname. He was on a warpath. Jackson squeaked, hunching himself to appear smaller and took tiny steps until he was behind Mark. “Nothing! We, uh, just had a  _ big  _ talk about healing. And stuff.” 

 

“Okay, everyone have fun signing your death warrants. Tell me when the blood is all drained so I can get to it before it dries and stains the couch.” Mark abandoned the kitchen, Jackson following after him so Jinyoung couldn’t pop his eyes out. 

 

Jinyoung roared Jackson’s full name, but it didn’t do any good. The older breathed and mumbled to himself a moment, and remembered his interrogation. “That wound should be halfway up your arm by now. And  _ festering _ .” 

 

“Maybe it’s his tattoo, hyung. Magic loves him,” Bambam scoffed, a little bitter at the edges, which was understandable. 

 

Yugyeom and Youngjae had compiled these lies together because there was no way they’d believe he could heal something that dangerous and chaotic on his own. Mainly because he still couldn't heal anything at all. “Okay,  _ fine _ . I tried to find him, but I couldn’t track him down. I did go to my mom’s house for some peace and quiet, and space to  _ think _ , and on the way there--that old lady who sells antiques and knick-knacks,” he glanced towards Bambam because he had seen her, too. She sold things on a blanket usually near the bridge, but far enough away from all the major street markets and stores. His friend nodded to indicate that she was, indeed, real and not a lie. “Yeah, she saw my hand and said she had something fix it.” 

 

Jaebeom’s eyebrows shot up. Obviously, this was unheard of, as well. 

 

“She said there was a patch of foxglove, and that the fairies living inside were of the old, gentle kind.” Bambam shivered, and Yugyeom leaned sideways to pat his hand. “Fairies, not the Fae, Bammie. They’re different.” 

 

“Why must you people have so many similar creatures?” 

 

“What about your domestic house cats versus wild mountain cats?” Jaebeom questioned humorously. 

 

“Okay, touche, hyung.” He raised and waved an invisible white flag. 

 

“Stop changing the subject. One more derail and I’m throwing all of you into a ravine.” 

 

“So, anyway,” Yugyeom carried on with his lengthy white lie, “I thought she might be old and going senile, seeing stars or something, but she wasn’t wrong. The fairies there still abide by laws, so once they noticed the harm was my own fault, they could only heal it most of the way. To stop me from bleeding out, that’s what they scarred over.” Yugyeom lifted his palm and drew near the areas that were raised and paler than his natural skin.   

 

“Where is this so-called fairy foxglove patch?” Jinyoung narrowed his eyes. 

 

It was a good thing Yugyeom had all that knowledge of magical creatures stored away. “C’mon, hyung. You should know once the fairies perform a favor, they move to go find someone else to help. They live by the principle of fate.”  He shrugged, and that was the end of it. 

 

“What about your mother? Should I call her to see how she’s doing? Ask her why she didn’t send you back with any containers of food?” 

 

Yugyeom sighed, ticking off the answers on his fingers as he went. “Mom is great and healthy as always. Call her at any proper hour of the day to confirm if I slept over, hyung. She didn’t give me food because I didn’t give her any time to prepare it. She handed me pocket cash for a coffee and lunch because I tried to come up with a new plan at a fucking cafe before stumbling back here. Anything else, or are you just trying to postpone my sleep schedule?” 

 

“The only place you’re sleeping is in the yard.” 

 

Jaebeom covered Jinyoung’s mouth, and Yugyeom was afraid to ask what kind of spell he was going to chant. Because Jinyoung hadn’t ever needed to chant his spells. “Okay, Jinyoungie! Time for bed. Bammie?” 

 

Bambam gave Yugyeom a quick two-thumbs up. “Real great job, Gyeom.” It was sarcastic. Yugyeom recognized he wasn’t the best liar, but they wouldn’t believe him if he told the truth, either. 

 

Youngjae told him to do everything he could to not be a point of doubt for the coven. There were a lot of factors involved, but even without deceiving Youngjae, just the act of chasing after him and trying to get into his head would be a punishable offense--one that he didn’t know if he could bounce back from. 

 

Frankly, if he told a lie or told the truth, he was fucked. But at least lying allowed him to soften Youngjae up a little longer, and hopefully keep the coven behind him. 

 

Bambam wrangled Jinyoung into following him, sticking close to his side and appearing like they were joined at the hip. Jinyoung glared back at Jaebeom and Yugyeom before hugging Bambam’s arm and saying he was the only loyal bitch here. 

 

Yugyeom sprawled out on the couch, going to face the cushions and forget this whole mess for awhile, but Jaebeom dimmed the lights and settled on the floor, pushing the dust and air particles into a border around them to silence their echoes. Yugyeom always knew when he performed a soundproofing spell because he felt the same tickle and tingle at the base of his scalp. Yugyeom really didn’t want to talk, and he especially wasn’t ready to face Jaebeom again because he probably had a mouthful already from Jinyoung. And he couldn’t exactly justify aloud why he had Jaebeom cut his hand open. 

 

“Gyeom-ah.” 

 

Yugyeom stayed laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Hyung, I’m tired.” 

 

Jaebeom kissed the palm of his hand, over the wound and near his wrist. It was too sensitive for comfort, and too late to start anything Yugyeom couldn’t finish, but Jaebeom surprisingly left it at that, fitting his palm to his cheek. “I won’t ask why you lied, and I’m not gonna demand the truth. But since our banishment here, I haven’t  _ once  _ let anyone else in.” 

 

As he talked, Yugyeom naturally gravitated towards him, turning onto his side and tugging on the small bunches of hair his fingertips could reach. 

 

“I let  _ you  _ in, Gyeom. I listened to you, ate shit for it, and then defended you and had to buy a new television because no one fucking  _ understood _ what that actually  _ meant _ .” Yugyeom was about to apologize for leaving Jaebeom alone to deal with the accusations and resistance, but the witch wrapped his other hand around Yugyeom’s, and he was completely fragile and vulnerable. “And with everyone against my decision to trust your stupid ass, wanna know what I was worried about?” 

 

“Hyung--” 

 

“You, dumbass. I had to wonder what would happen if there was a mistake you didn’t think about, and you didn’t come back.” Jaebeom took Yugyeom’s hand off his cheek, but enveloped it between both of his, the warmth of his palm seeping into the remainder of his scabbed wound and there was a sense of relief calming his nerves. “Now, I know you lied because this shit, warped and unfinished, is still his signature healing spell. And that means whatever your plan was actually worked.” 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t deny him that truth. He made Jaebeom a part of this, and he didn’t deserve to feel like his going against the rest of his coven was done for nothing. “Yeah, hyung. It’s working. Kind of. I mean...the first step worked, and that’s what I needed.” 

 

“I’m on your side, Gyeom-ah. I  _ need  _ you to realize the weight of that. You’ll probably have to keep seeing him, and no matter what the fuck you do with him, I’ll defend you and justify your actions until you specifically tell me he’s manipulated you into seeking vengeance for him. I’m gonna trust that you’re strong enough to not become a puppet.” 

 

Yugyeom felt he was speaking from his personal experiences from when the king also let himself become a puppet. They were both seeing the irony and repetition of the situation, and it hurt because that betrayal had a chance of happening all over again. 

 

Yugyeom shuffled until he hit the back of the couch, patting the space in front of him for Jaebeom. “Come here, hyung.” Jaebeom crawled up, keeping his knees bent a little and his hands curled into fists between their chests. “I’ll be brutally honest because we both need to hear it,” Yugyeom whispered, trying to keep his tone light so Jaebeom knew it wasn’t a confession of wanting to murder them in the morning. “I’m not sure what’s gonna happen, or what I’ll have to do. But I’ll never let Youngjae control me,” he dropped the formalities so he was less suspicious. “I’ve seen pieces of your story, and pieces of his story. I’m here to keep you from sacrificing yourselves, and I’ll go there to keep him from making the world go boom. If something I do seems like an act of betrayal, you have to know right now that it’s not what it’ll seem.” 

 

Yugyeom’s guilt over the wound stirred, over the fear of coming this far with Jaebeom only to have him believe it was the worst thing he could have ever done. He held back his tears and threaded his hands in Jaebeom’s hair. “I’m not gonna do anything to fuck this up, hyung. We know what mistrust and misunderstanding does because that’s where I started with you. We can trust each other, but we have to trust ourselves. I won’t become Youngjae’s puppet, but you can’t let the rest of the coven skew your thinking. Everything I do will have a reason.” 

 

Jaebeom tangled their legs together, and rested a hand over Yugyeom’s cheek. “But if your ass fucking dies or gets murdered, I’m taking that as a sign of treachery and I will ban you from haunting us.” 

 

“That’s a fair punishment.” 

 

Yugyeom lightly kissed his wrist and pulled him to cuddle into his chest. Jaebeom hugged him tighter, and Yugyeom was worried he couldn’t breathe, but his heart was beating at the same wild pace, fueled by violent worry and scenarios of what could go wrong. It wasn’t an easy night, but at least they knew they were safe. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Mark shoved a handful of gummy worms into his mouth to stave off every bit of dry anger threatening to spill out of his mouth in mockery and sarcasm and real threats he’d act on if he said them. Finding out how Yugyeom had danced and played with everyone didn’t sit right with him, especially now that he knew the information he pulled out of Jackson. 

 

“I already told him it wasn’t possible. Even if we could do blood magic, it’s not a force this realm would handle. It’s already tearing apart from the things we do.” 

 

“Okay, but--” half his gummies fell out and he resigned to chewing and swallowing the rest before defending himself. “I’d get if he was just  _ curious _ , since that’s just such a fucking Yugyeom thing to do. But he took something from each of us and literally ran. We don’t even know if this whole fucking charade was his plan--staying here after King  _ Wanderboy  _ got his poisoned magic back so we’d still trust him until one fateful day--” 

 

Jackson kicked his shin. Very hard. 

 

“I get it’s a touchy time, but I had a decent hand in training him. When you insult him, you insult everyone who raised him to be caring and accepting. I’ll admit we didn’t tell him about the council before it was too late, and you made mistakes in that time, too. If he’s really the Lost King to you, then I can see why you’d be just a mere disposable servant to him now.” Jackson showed no remorse for the comment, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. 

 

Mark had been only a common servant, cleaning up after a larger group around the kingdom and castle, and he was eventually put to watch over two young royals, and when the boy he knew as Ars was worthy of the soul, Ars as the new king decreed that only Mark could be his servant, or he’d reject the power he wasn’t supposed to have and let the kingdom devolve into absolute chaos. They hadn’t ever really had deep conversations about responsibilities and relationships, but they knew enough about each other to be friends. 

 

He had a very specific role in pushing the king into corruption, continuing to take Jaebeom into his bed and essentially become a homewrecker (technically a throne wrecker), even though Jaebeom had laid out his need for open relationships and attention to the king so they weren’t performing an act of treachery. None of it had really been cheating, but Mark didn’t know or didn’t care if the king was jealous, and he slapped himself every once in awhile for not caring because it could’ve saved this whole damn witch hunt. 

 

“I’m not gonna fail myself and believe Ars is still in there, but you’re right. I didn’t believe in the fallen king as much as you guys did.” 

 

Jackson sighed and hung his head, sitting on the stone next to Mark. They had been tending to the gardens, and the yard in general when they stupidly started this conversation. “He probably just let himself spiral even deeper after every reincarnation. If that attic room is his residual magic, I’d combust into frozen nothingness trying to comprehend what his  _ actual  _ void is like.” 

 

Mark nervously bounced his leg and fiercely tore a gummy worm in half with his teeth. “If he really wants to end it this time...I dunno, Jacks, I just don’t like what Yugyeom is doing.” 

 

“I’m not saying we should blindly trust his actions, but we just--” 

 

“Wait for evidence? Find proof?” Mark stood up, his confusion and anger bubbling again. “That’s what we did  _ last  _ time. We both just agreed that was a  _ devastating  _ mistake, so tell me Oh Wise Scholar, why shouldn’t we learn from that tragically sickening experience?” 

 

Jackson tugged on his own hair, just as frustrated and plagued by the past as Mark was. “There are similarities, okay? But we didn’t live with the council--hell, we didn’t even share a room with the king. But Yugyeom is smart. He lives here, and we share a bed with him. If he does anything out of character, we’ll all know before it’s too late.” 

 

“Wasn’t him asking to be cut open with a magical dark knife and shadily escaping into the night out of character?” 

 

“His rune tattoo could have infected and corrupted him, too. A magic injury isn’t so far off the grid for him, Mark. He’s been trying to gain magic since that moon-geode thing, and it hasn’t exactly failed, yet. Maybe he thought it would help him get more power or something.” 

 

“But if he did go to Youngjae like Jinyoung thinks, what would Yugyeom want with more magic?” 

 

Jackson shrugged and absently poked at the damp soil. His tomato and basil plants rose and fluffed up, and Jackson screeched and fell off the stone border. He surrendered to the sky and Mark crouched and stepped over him, leaning his face above his partner’s. 

 

“That’s the real wild card,” Jackson answered sadly. 

 

Mark took his hand and got him on his feet, brushing off his back while Jackson dusted off his legs. Mark was restless in his doubts and the upheaval within the house. Usually he tidied up, but the living spaces weren’t that bad and the garden was now off limits in case the plants magically blossomed. He had one safe space to exert his energy. “I’m gonna clean your workshop and if you try to stop me, I’ll fuck you all day without your muting jewelry.” 

 

Jackson steadied himself and stuck both his hands in the kangaroo pocket of Mark’s hoodie. He batted his eyelashes and snuggled up too close. “Can I try? You stressed me out.” 

 

Mark was long immune to Jackson being coy and cutely seductive. “Good, I’ll keep stressing you out. But I’m not gonna remind you of what Greg might turn into if you were fucked too hard on this property with full magic.” 

 

Jackson gasped in the way rich people in movies clutched at their pearl necklaces. “Poor Greg! Why are you so mean?” 

 

Mark flicked his forehead. For being the highest ranking scholar, Jackson sure was mindfully absent at times. “But what do you think happens if you let me clean your workspace?” 

 

The lightbulb turned on. “Yes, great--acceptable, even.” 

 

Mark let his bag of gummy worms fall to the ground by their feet so he could at least give Jackson a preview kiss before they went inside. It wouldn’t cover their anger and concerns, but it’d make both of them less eager to see heads roll and kick them like soccer balls. The one kiss turned into Jackson pulling Mark against him, and Mark jumping to hook his legs around the blonde’s waist. The force of it, coupled with them both being immersed in locking lips and melding their energies together meant they realized too late that they had knocked one of the tomato plants over, and also left a few decent cracks on the outside of the house. 

 

Mark could fix it later. He wasn’t sure what else they were going to break. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Yugyeom was finally free of classes for the day--not that he was able to pay attention in the first place, but he at least got the attendance and partial participation points added. He was darting across campus to meet Bambam before they hopped on a bus when a hand reached out and pulled him in between two quiet buildings. 

 

He expected to be mugged, or trapped against one of the buildings, but it was only Youngjae and instead of caging him in, he casually held onto his belt loops. Yugyeom calmed and let himself be held still. “I was thinking about how this whole magic thing works, and how to get back the magic owed to you.” 

 

Yugyeom shivered, not out of excitement and anticipation as Youngjae’s smirk seemed to suggest, but it was a cold drop in his stomach, lungs gasping before his feet could ever touch the ocean in freezing temperatures. But the words came out practiced and automatic, set upon a foundation of perseverance, reminding himself that it was for the greater good. “What do I need to do, hyung?” 

 

Youngjae rocked on to his tiptoes and cutely kissed Yugyeom’s lips, humming and smiling as his shoes touched the concrete again. “If I could connect your energies, I might be able to remotely transfer that part of his soul into yours.” He dragged his finger along Yugyeom’s marked palm, smirking like something truly wicked had come to play. “He’s already in this, but we need an inanimate object to work as a totem.” 

 

Yugyeom held Youngjae’s face in both hands, tracing his thumb near his mole. He silently prayed the item wasn’t going to be pertinent, like the jade ring or rune pendant. “Tell me, hyung. I’ll steal anything, and you don’t even have to reward me.” He played it up because he wasn’t actually confident in his ability to steal  _ anything _ , and he did like a good reward now and then, but he had to keep Youngjae alive and believing in him. 

 

“Oh, Gyeomie, no need to lower yourself.” Youngjae slipped his hands just barely under Yugyeom’s shirt, gripping his waist with his fingernails. Yugyeom hated that it wasn’t uncomfortable. “You’ll be a king. Your existence alone will demand rewards and praise. So, when you do something for me, what will you get?” 

 

“A reward.” He could only hope the portal magic would be unlocked before Youngjae found a way to give Yugyeom the split shard of his soul. 

 

“It’s like you were made just for me.” Youngjae’s expression softened, but his nails still bit into Yugyeom’s fragile skin. “It’ll be real simple. I just need you to steal Jaebeom’s earring--that dangling one with the small feather charm on it.” 

 

_ Simple _ , he said, as if it were like grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen when absolutely no one was around. 

 

Jaebeom wore that earring almost all the time. Yugyeom had asked about it since it closely resembled his own star earring he bartered off to Taemin, and the earring had been a birthday gift from Jinyoung, made heartfelt and thoughtful by the silver feather, indicating that although their circumstances were not ideal, they were defining their own freedom within their human realm cage. It was a positive thing, filled with good and bad memories, but always purified because of how much Yugyeom knew Jaebeom thought of his lover. 

 

Stealing an earring off someone’s body wasn’t the same as flipping the tap water on. “That’s his  _ favorite  _ earring. He even keeps it on when he showers.” 

 

Youngjae finally retracted the claws, Yugyeom breathing out a tension he hadn’t been aware of holding, and he teased his fingers over the collar of Yugyeom’s shirt. “That’s why you’re going to fuck him, and then while he’s sleeping, carefully remove it and deliver it to me.” 

 

Yugyeom had to do what now? 

 

“He hurt me once, hyung. How do I know he won’t do it again?” It was a reality based fear because if Jaebeom did wake up to find his precious earring gone, regardless of their talk, he was likely to be tortured before getting murdered. 

 

“Silly, Gyeomie. If he tries, you have protection. And if he tries to wean your life away,” he tapped his temple with a fingertip, “I’ll feel that same magnetic shift from your protection spell not being strong enough.” 

 

Earring, Yugyeom thought. It was just a silver little earring. There were tons of other earrings he could replace it with. Maybe he could do this. Maybe Jaebeom would actually understand that it wasn’t done to purposely harm him. “Okay, that’s right. You’ll be with me through this. I can do it.” 

 

Youngjae pulled him down for a kiss. “Hyung’ll be right here,” he whispered, pressing into his chest. “You’ll make a king proud.” 

 

Something about that line wiggled into his mind and crawled under his skin, nestling along the edges of his tattoo, but not touching them. He planned to make  _ both _ kings proud, and it was so easy to please Youngjae. He had already accepted his mission, but he stood there and kissed Youngjae a few more minutes until he ushered him to go about his day as usual. They couldn’t afford too much suspicious activity or lengthy delays, so he wiped his lips and applied chapstick, tapping his cheeks and willing the redness to fade before he reached his friend. 

  
  


*

  
  


Jinyoung sealed himself in their library, locking Jaebeom and Jackson out and completely erasing Yugyeom’s code to enter. No matter how hard he slammed his head against the wall, the library wouldn’t open for him anymore. Jinyoung tried to dampen his irritation and disappointment by reading over the folk tales from their realm, and reading Jimin’s journal to remind himself who the real villain was. 

 

There was a strong possibility Youngjae had somehow poked around and knotted the right strings in Yugyeom’s brain to control and bend him for his own purposes, just like the council did to him. Jinyoung almost believed that ridiculous lie about the healing fairies, but there was no lingering scent of moldy lemons and sour rain they usually left behind. He also knew Yugyeom deeply cared for his mother and would have stayed to properly visit with her. He didn’t know why the boy was suddenly lying, but he didn’t like it and he wouldn’t let it keep going for much longer. 

 

The books had only led him to think deeper about the consequences of losing both the king and Yugyeom, and with a frustrated sigh, he slammed the covers closed and went up to find a snack and drink some water because he didn’t recall having either since he holed up underground. He was expecting everyone else to be busy or brooding, but to his dismay, Jaebeom was also in the kitchen. 

 

He was about to bite into a freshly made sandwich (and by bite Jinyoung knew he was going to shove three quarters of it into his mouth without blinking), but as soon as he noticed Jinyoung, he sheepishly set the sandwich down and cut it in half. Jinyoung ignored the peace offering to down a glass of water, refilling it and setting it at the other end of the island. He tapped his nails randomly against the cool glass, wanting to say something, and he couldn’t do it without his anger taking over. 

 

Jaebeom slid the half sandwich over to him on a new plate, hanging his head and not demanding any gratitude for it. 

 

Jinyoung couldn’t decide where he stood with Yugyeom, but he wasn’t going to let whatever was happening sever his trust and love for Jaebeom. He sighed to himself and fidgeted with the plate, keeping his gaze steady on Jaebeom. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do.” 

 

Jaebeom rightfully perked up, a little worry still pouting his lips, and he daringly closed most of the distance between them. 

 

“The weapon, your robes, any trinkets and items that aren’t your ring--anything else you smuggled into this realm that has your  _ darkest  _ magic infused, you’re going to put them in a chest for me to hide.” 

 

Jaebeom ran a hand over his face, fingers slightly trembling and his expression in general was a little worse for wear--duller skin and redder eyes with fainter dark circles, but Jinyoung was long past the point of consoling him through every snag they hit, and this was something that had to be fixed with communication and observation. 

 

“It won’t have to be used, Jinyoungie.” 

 

Jinyoung had heard that when he first found out Jaebeom had kept the dagger under his robes before their banishment began. Once they were in a safe location in their new, widely open prison, Jaebeom tucked it deep into one of the corners of the house, promising he wouldn’t need it here and it was just a precaution so no one in their realm could use it for evil, but eventually, it was wielded against a 21 year old boy, and who’s to say he wouldn’t ask to see it again?

 

“I’m at my limit of hearing lies and false promises. You  _ think  _ it won’t be used again, but one day you might have to. Or someone will coerce you into using it again.” The matters weren’t something either of them should take lightly, and at least if Jinyoung had it, he’d be more than willing to dig it out if Jaebeom actually needed it for defense purposes. 

 

Jaebeom opened his mouth presumably to argue, but he shook himself out of it and inhaled, softening his expression and filling his gaze with absolute loyalty and trust. He sidled closer, leaning his elbow on the edge of the counter and lifting Jinyoung’s hands to his lips. It was a feather-light warmth over each finger and every knuckle, a graceful kiss on the smooth back of his hand and Jinyoung couldn’t help but think of the first time they wordlessly confessed their devotion--Jaebeom when he housed and cared for him after having his title stripped and paying for that humiliation while tied to the town square monument for days, and Jinyoung confessed by not giving up when Jaebeom let his rage and heartache control his magic well after they defeated the council and lived out their punishment. His husband nearly put an end to their realm, and he still reached for his hand.

 

The moment also reminded him of early nights, the glow of the sunset and rising moonlight softly blanketing Jaebeom’s features until he appeared nothing more dangerous than a loveable, behaved house cat. And there were late mornings, catching the heat or the peak of the rainfall when Jaebeom was a little grumpier, but all the more unwilling to leave the bed. 

 

“You know you are  _ everything  _ to me, Jinyoungie. I can’t love anyone else how I love you.” Jaebeom kissed his hand again, nuzzling it against his cheek. “You’ve seen all of my mistakes, and stopped me from becoming an immoral, cursed witch worth hunting. You’ve seen me not trust  _ anyone  _ in this realm, warning you and Mark and Jackson to not trust them either, and saving you when it went wrong.” Jaebeom laced their fingers together and held their hands against his chest. “We trusted each other long before anyone else. Since the day you found me, and stood by your decision to protect me in that rotten fucking kingdom, I trusted you. I’m not part of any scheme to be manipulated, so I’ll give you the dagger, Jinyoungie. There’s one hand mirror and hair comb beside it, and that’s all I have.” 

 

Jinyoung staved his fondness off a little longer. Jaebeom had still done something of his own accord without taking time to think about it, and that was damaging. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he had waited at least a day to follow through with Yugyeom’s not-so-secret questions for his plan, but he did it in mere hours. 

 

“In the back right corner of my dark room, on the floor, there’s a secret compartment. You have a keen sense for hidden magical items,” he was trying to smartly refer to himself, “so you’ll find them now. However,” he squeezed Jinyoung’s hands and closed his eyes and gently tapped his chest with their folded hands, “I really need you to trust me about Yugyeom, okay? Your jaded ass husband who never trusted  _ anyone  _ in this realm is saying he trusts someone. Please have some faith in my decisions.” 

 

The marriage tattoo on his ankle itched a little. There was a phase where they were proud to announce their bond every day, mostly to the mirror or each other or delighted Jackson and a gagging Mark, and then they used the label as a power play and a threat, and then they leveled out and hardly ever needed to remind themselves of their marriage because there wasn’t ever anyone asking what their status was, so when something was serious enough, they dropped the hyung and dropped the name and pleaded, lover to lover, husband to husband. 

 

“I’m wary of his recklessness and what Youngjae can do to a learning empath, and I’m worried you won’t see what’s happening because you care for him. Yugyeom can say something will keep him safe, or keep his plan going, or whatever the hell excuse, and you’ll go along with it.” Jinyoung untangled his hands and lightly pet Jaebeom’s cheek and tucked his stray hairs behind his ear. He’d probably need a haircut soon so it didn’t get absolutely unruly. “It doesn’t mean I don’t believe you, or love you any less. If those two corrupt you or manipulate you, I’ll know and I’ll cut them down--without blaming you.” 

 

From the dejected slump of Jaebeom’s shoulders, it wasn’t exactly the answer he had been hoping for, but Jinyoung wasn’t going to just follow after him. It wasn’t how they worked. Every single one of them were always allowed to challenge the leader’s opinions and decisions, and even if Jaebeom was his friend, his lover, his husband, he had a right to disagree with him as his leader. 

 

“Either this’ll end okay, or it’ll end badly. Like always.” He dropped his hand and took the plate, ready to just eat the sandwich in the library while he figured out a nice new hiding spot for Jaebeom’s belongings, and he was going to just leave their conversation at that. But Jaebeom looked tired and ignored, and that wasn’t ever a punishment Jinyoung would give him, so he turned on his heel and kissed Jaebeom’s cheek. “Thank you for the sandwich. I appreciate how you share.” 

 

He didn’t perk up much, but he gave a small smile and gestured for Jinyoung to do what needed to be done. 

  
  


*

  
  


Jaebeom didn’t trust himself to do anything useful with his magic without breaking something, or denting the walls, or caving the yard in, so he washed the dishes by hand to pass the time. At least now he knew what it was like being on the other side, having everyone telling him to be cautious and tread carefully. He didn’t like being the one confronted and interrogated, but he had no physical evidence to show them Yugyeom wasn’t a traitor. He only could think of the things Yugyeom had done for them so far, and argue that he was building upon that reputation. 

 

Just as he thought of him, Yugyeom quietly stepped into the room, eyes adjusting to the falling shadows of mid-evening. It probably didn’t help that this room was more or less unexplored territory for him, but so was a surprising amount of the rest of the house. Nora followed beside him, glancing up whenever he paused or walked too slow, and then he hunched down and scratched her ears. “I’m sorry, hyung. If it fails, I’ll explain to everyone what I  _ meant  _ to do, and if it succeeds, I’ll tell everyone. Together.” 

 

He figured he found out about everyone’s continued doubts and attacks that extended towards Jaebeom because he was the most convenient one to blame when Yugyeom wasn’t there. “It’s okay, Gyeom. You’re here, and you come back, and that’s what matters. I chose to trust you, and I’m sticking by it.” 

 

He licked his lips and rocked on his heels, hugging his knees while hesitating. “Did you really mean what you said? About never doubting my actions? You’ll believe everything I do has a purpose that isn’t meant to hurt you, or our family?” 

 

_ Our family _ , Jaebeom mentally repeated. 

 

That was the exact reason why Jaebeom was certain his instincts weren’t steering him in a dangerous direction. Yugyeom hadn’t planned those words to convince him he was good because he immediately berated himself for saying something so precious and necessary when maybe not everyone agreed he was actually in this family. But he was. 

 

“It’s fine to say that. You don’t just  _ exist  _ here--in this house. You live in it. You contribute. You make an impression upon it, and you are becoming something…” Jaebeom paused to find the right term that wasn’t too candy-coated and wasn’t too bland and overused, and he gave up. “If you were a peasant or a commoner in our realm, what you’re doing now--if it was for any of the royal families, you would at least earn the right to enter the kingdom and receive recognition at the next crowded ceremony.” Nora curiously sniffed the ground between them and they both petted her. “Doing it without anyone else knowing your plan isn’t honorable and chivalrous, but it is brave and selfless.” 

 

“It doesn’t feel like that.” He was sulking, likely thinking about the next step he couldn’t tell anyone about. 

 

“Of course it doesn’t, Gyeom. Bammie was on the fast-track back to Thailand after he yelled at Youngjae, but I stopped him from leaving because even if he was terrified, he told him something I wished I had told the king. And now here you are, standing in enemy territory because I can’t, trying to save both sides. You and Bam might be the only way to peace. The king and I both made mistakes, and we were both wronged, and you are the thread mending that rift.” He gently smiled at the younger going through a crisis. “Hell, I kinda wish I could just make you worthy of being king. Pass this fucking soul onto you so it’d be more stable and used for a greater good or whatever.”

 

Yugyeom cringed and tried to nervously laugh it off. “I really don’t think I’d want it. The empathy I have is enough.” 

 

“Here,” he scooched over and patted the beanbag chair he was using to keep himself propped up. “Just lay with me for awhile.” 

 

“I…” He glanced up at Jaebeom, licked his lips and then watched Nora flick her tail around and prance like she was at some showcase. “There’s a lot--in my head, and it might not be the  _ healthiest  _ thing, but…” 

 

“Hey,” Jaebeom soothed and sat all the way up, making Nora move so he could shuffle closer and hold Yugyeom’s face. “As long as it’s not damaging the house and any of our emotional states, and doesn’t require killing someone, it’s probably okay. You can’t tell me what you’re holding onto, but you can tell me how you wanna let go of it.” Jaebeom really couldn’t say anything against unhealthy stress relief and dispelling anger because that was half of what he did with Mark, and what he had done with the king and Youngjae. He knew how emotions were for those woven so strongly together it was hard to pick their colors apart. And especially for Yugyeom, who had memories and emotions that didn’t even belong to him; the kid was allowed to go for a walk, or pay to break plates, or stay here and fuck it out. 

 

“I just...I want you, hyung.” His voice shook and Jaebeom wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up crying soon, or during, or sometime after they were done. “I’d be gentle, I promise.” 

 

That was a bit of a twist from his expectations, but Jaebeom didn’t mind. He already loved being squished between the couch and Yugyeom’s body, completely hidden from view in a warm darkness that was actually safe. He had trained his mind to pause and clear whenever he was able to bury himself in Yugyeom’s chest. He was definitely willing to be crushed between him and the floor to bring some sanity back to both of their minds. 

 

“I’ll get everything, okay? Just breathe and settle in.” He kissed Yugyeom’s forehead, and clicked his tongue for Nora to follow him out. As close as he loved to be with his firecat, and as many awkward accidents as they shared, Jaebeom would never allow her to purposely watch him be naked and intimate with someone. She didn’t need to see those things, and she was better off taking a nap away from Jaebeom anyway. He’d be sure to cuddle her on the couch later so she didn’t hold a grudge. 

 

Once she understood not to follow him around, he grabbed the bottle of lube, a vibrating cockring because it was what  _ he  _ wanted, a towel for cleaning up, an extra blanket that no one else was going to notice went missing, and freshly washed sweatpants in case Yugyeom didn’t want to cuddle naked. He also added a couple bottles of water from the fridge, and headed back. 

 

He didn’t exactly know what he was expecting Yugyeom to do while he was gone, but he returned to see him standing in the corner, fingers teasing the button of his jeans, while his shirt was already abandoned on the floor beside him. Jaebeom closed the door and sealed it shut so no one could hear them or sneak inside. He put their necessities on the floor and quickly made his way into Yugyeom’s personal space. There wasn’t anything hasty or harsh in his movements, and Yugyeom gratefully responded to his calmly paced advancements. 

 

He started off small, curling his fingers into Yugyeom’s belt loops and setting his other palm over the rune tattoo. He fluttered kisses over Yugyeom’s collarbone and neck, under his jaw and stretched to catch his lips. Yugyeom leaned down and parted his lips, the easy slide of their tongues sparking a need inside both of them, and Yugyeom decided to take control of it. 

 

Effortlessly, he gripped Jaebeom’s shoulders and switched their positions, caging him into the corner with his height, his hips, his hands and his mouth. Jaebeom whined against his lips and locked his arms around his neck while Yugyeom’s circled his waist. His muscles instantly relaxed, joints silently cracking at their newfound feather-weight, and when he craved more touch, Yugyeom lifted him up and he hooked his legs around the taller’s hips. He stripped off his hoodie before his back hit the wall, and he continued kissing Yugyeom until his lips were chapped and raw. 

 

They were a mess of limbs and heat, demanding the same amount passion from each other. Yugyeom accidentally raked his nails along Jaebeom’s back, apologetic because of his soul mark, but Jaebeom told him to do it again. It was painful, but the mark seemed to increase the nerve sensitivity tenfold, and the feeling resembled a mixture of warm bedding from the dryer and the gritty, agonizing rush of tension right before an orgasm. It was like being massaged and scratched all at once, and Jaebeom wouldn’t refuse it for anything. 

 

“One more, Gyeomie. One more and then I need you to fuck me.” 

 

Yugyeom smirked, dragging his nails over the curves of his tattoo, brushing back over it with his palms to soothe it. Jaebeom lowered his feet to the ground, definitely too far gone to stand on his own, so Yugyeom steadied him against the wall and helped get his pants off, guiding him over to the soft rug and beanbag chair as a makeshift pillow. The fibers against his back trapped the heat and tickled the raised nail lines in a way that was too good to stay still. Once Yugyeom was fully undressed, he didn’t waste time in using his weight to stop Jaebeom’s squirming. 

 

He combed Jaebeom’s bangs off his forehead with his fingertips. “Let it calm a little, hyung. Just for a minute.” He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. 

 

Jaebeom shut his eyes, too, letting his hands rest at Yugyeom’s hip and back. He inhaled through his nose, aware of his chest rising even when met with the strain of a body on top of it, and he exhaled out of his mouth. There was maybe something more intimate about this than kissing--sharing warmth and exchanging breaths in the quietest of moments when they were still wanting. 

 

“I’ll never let anything hurt you,” Yugyeom faintly whispered. 

 

“I know, Gyeomie. It’s gonna be okay. Just do everything you have to do.” 

 

Yugyeom took a shaky breath before kissing him again, softly at first, but he threaded his fingers into Jaebeom’s hair and let his weight settle a little heavier. In between kisses, he desperately hushed Jaebeom’s name, hiding the syllables every time their lips touched. He wasn’t going to chide him for his casualness because there was no one else around, and with their current circumstances and agreements, Jaebeom didn’t give a shit how many times Yugyeom dropped honorifics with him. Hyung wasn’t ever a title for him before this realm, anyway. 

 

Yugyeom kept things simple from there, mouthing down his neck and chest, briefly biting his stomach and hip, and admiring when his cock twitched at his approaching warmth. Yugyeom smiled and stroked the length of it, licking and sucking the tip. Jaebeom whimpered into the touch, and Yugyeom pulled his mouth off to nestle the tip against his cheek, still firmly stroking him. “Have you ever thought about this? Coming on my face, and then cleaning it up?” 

 

He couldn’t deny it. “Couple times. Wanted to see you messy.” 

 

He looked content with that. “One day maybe you’ll see it,” he teased. “But right now,” he abandoned Jaebeom’s cock to grab the lube and vibrating ring, “we need this.” 

 

Jaebeom went to prop himself on all fours, but Yugyeom eased him back down onto the floor. 

 

“Wanna watch you. See how good I can finger you open.” 

 

“Might explode before that,” he scoffed. 

 

Yugyeom warmed some lube with his hands and carefully slicked the cleft of his ass, teasing his hole before shallowly entering with a fingertip. “I know you won’t, Jaebeom. You have the ring, and the rune. Even your mark keeps you grounded.” 

 

Now that he mentioned the mark again, Jaebeom noticed his back didn’t feel as overwhelmingly hot and damaged, and it had dulled to a comforting burn and sting. It didn’t make him squirm because it was a tolerable level of sensitive, still creating the same pleasurable effects. Maybe Yugyeom was just giving him lessons in control and the importance of patience and not always asking for more. 

 

Yugyeom worked his whole finger in, swirling it around and teasing his walls before adding more lube and another finger. 

 

Jaebeom’s breaths came slightly shorter, adjusting to every angle Yugyeom’s fingers spread him open at. “Fuck, Gyeomie. How’re you so good?” He meant it both about having Jaebeom ready to beg after just two fingers, and telling him things about himself he should already know. 

 

“I can do better.” He slipped in a third finger, scissoring and curling them until he felt nearly full at the edges. He just wanted Yugyeom inside of him, laying on him and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe, silently begging for an orgasm without an end. But cheekily and messily, he slowly fucked him with four fingers. 

 

Yugyeom observed him as he closed his eyes and tugged at the fabric of the beanbag, lifting his hips just a little to roll out the awkward and uncomfortable stretch. Yugyeom moved his fingers less but ran his hand over Jaebeom’s thighs and teased the head of his cock with lips and tongue and fingertips. When the overwhelming ache of being stretched lessened, Yugyeom massaged his hips until he settled against the floor. He wiped his fingers on the towel before putting the ring at the base of Jaebeom’s dick, and lubing himself up. “You ready?” 

 

He was ready for this yesterday. “Yeah, don’t even pause, Gyeom. Need all of you.” 

 

Yugyeom lined his tip with Jaebeom’s ass, carefully beginning to slide in. Jaebeom held his breath until Yugyeom was buried inside, and the younger decided Jaebeom deserved some torturing by turning the vibration ring onto a pulse setting. Jaebeom keened and grasped Yugyeom’s shoulders to pull him down. His heart raced and his skin prickled with the threat of sweat as Yugyeom slid out, and took his time pushing in. Yugyeom kissed his forehead and couldn’t stop touching his hair, studying Jaebeom like he was the first and only wonderment of the world. 

 

He nosed over his cheek and sucked on his piercing, the breath in his ear making Jaebeom shiver and hold Yugyeom tighter. He didn’t fuck Jaebeom deep or fast, but the heat was still building. He was enveloped by Yugyeom’s weight, skin against skin while they kissed and caressed each other, Jaebeom comfortably filled and very aware of the pulsing vibrations at the base of his cock and fading through the tip. It was the perfect amount of overwhelmed and he was going to unravel and come just like this. 

 

“Gyeomie, just a little faster. Please, I’m so close.” 

 

Yugyeom kissed along his jaw, snapping his hips rougher, but not extreme enough to jar either of them. Jaebeom felt a tingle seep deep into his bones and everything took over him in all the right ways. “It’s okay. Just let it happen,” Yugyeom whispered above Jaebeom’s lips. 

 

Jaebeom let his arms fall to the ground, and Yugyeom immediately snuck his hands over his, gently folding their fingers together. Jaebeom bent his legs to loosely lay them over the backs of Yugyeom’s thighs, craving to be closer and feel more of him. It changed the angle so Yugyeom’s length reached deeper, and Jaebeom bit his nails into Yugyeom’s hands, moaning and whispering strings of nonsense as heat settled low and intense in his belly, zipping flames up his spine. 

 

Yugyeom was near the edge, too, barely saying anything except Jaebeom’s name in various forms, repeating a small “ _ Jaebeommie _ ” into their kisses. 

 

To know they had come so far, the nickname originally coming from a place of disrespect and doubt, and now it meant they fully respected and trusted their relationship and each other, Jaebeom finally let go. His hips lifted to meet Yugyeom’s gentle thrusts, licking into his mouth because he didn’t quite have the breath and strength to close his lips through the rush, and he came slow, thick cum on both of their stomachs. 

 

Yugyeom dropped his head onto Jaebeom’s shoulder, riding through his own orgasm and the aftershocks of it, remembering to take off the vibrator for Jaebeom before collapsing. They untangled their hands and Jaebeom pet Yugyeom’s slightly sweaty but soft hair until he found his bearings again, and Yugyeom just continued kissing him, one lingering kiss at a time. 

 

“Jaebeommie,” he quietly hummed. “Jaebeommie,” he whispered softly, lightly pressing their lips together. 

 

He couldn’t help hiding a stupid smile, but he also couldn’t ignore the wetness in his ass and the itchy disaster on his belly. “Not that I wouldn’t let you just kiss my lips off all day, but we should at least clean up,” Jaebeom reminded. 

 

Yugyeom nuzzled his face into Jaebeom’s neck, audibly pouting, but he quickly got over it and grabbed the towel to gently clean them both. He handed Jaebeom a water bottle and he drank almost half of it while Yugyeom finished organizing the items into a neat little pile that was easily carried out. Jaebeom smiled when Yugyeom ignored the pants and just unfolded the blanket, laying down on the beanbag beside Jaebeom. 

 

Their faces were close, but he didn’t try for a kiss. 

 

Jaebeom tucked his hands under his own cheek. “What’s so fascinating to you?” 

 

Yugyeom laid his hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder, caressing the skin with his thumb. “I just think about that first meeting--the ouija thing--and how cool and brave you were to just save three stupid young adults from a nightmare they created. You never had to choose to hunt every monster in the book, but you do it. And it’s…” His expression shifted to something sadder, a little more internal. “Like, shit Jaebeom, you’re just so strong for surviving without the monster hunting.” It looked like he wasn’t dealing well with his emotional whiplash, eyes shining with possible tears. “I need some of that strength.” 

 

Jaebeom wiped his first tear away, shushing him while leaning their foreheads together. “You have it, Gyeomie. You fought me, you spoke up when Mark was going to destroy your laptop and also me, and you’re here now, on our side. You’re putting yourself in harm’s way for everyone we care about.” He kissed the corners of his lips. “You’re doing more than surviving, too. I think we both underestimate ourselves at times.” 

 

“Maybe that’s the only way we’re still alive.” 

 

Jaebeom hadn’t really thought of it that way, but the line of logic wasn’t wrong. “Maybe, but that doesn’t make you weak.” 

 

Yugyeom hugged Jaebeom to his chest, kissing the top of his head and Jaebeom rubbed his back as he silently cried. 

  
  


*

  
  


Yugyeom watched Jaebeom’s cheek squish deeper into the beanbag, his lips lazily open and his shoulder barely moved with every breath. There were no traces of nightmares wrinkling his face, and for a moment, Yugyeom thought him to be small, like his body was more willing to bend and fold without the weight of their fates dragging him down. The things Yugyeom had to do, and would be doing, weren’t cool and brave like facing demons and ghosts and malicious creatures, but he hoped at the end of it he gained strength and respect. 

 

He slowly pushed himself up and glanced at Jaebeom in case any of the rustling and shifting stirred him, but he didn’t notice anything in his sleep. Yugyeom stepped into the sweatpants because he didn’t have the energy to mess with his jeans, and he threw his shirt over his head. He carefully opened the door and dug his geode out from his bag, going back to the room and setting it near the other items Jaebeom would clean up. He hoped this would be some kind of peace offering, or a solid reminder to trust in him and not let their history warp what was happening now. 

 

Yugyeom kneeled behind Jaebeom’s head, willing his ugly thudding heart to calm down and shut up. It was too loud, blood rushing into his ears until they rang with an invisible white noise. Despite it, his fingers still reached of their own accord, and he used his nails to gently push the earring’s loop closure apart. The hoop opened and he clenched his teeth, holding back several apologies and tears as he circled it out of his piercing and away from his earlobe.He couldn’t help but lay his forehead against Jaebeom’s temple once the silver drop earring was in his palm. 

 

“You’ll get it back, Jaebeommie, I  _ promise _ . I’m so sorry. Please believe me,” Yugyeom mouthed, inhaling deep so he didn’t kiss him awake, or cry into him, or show cowardice by giving up his entire plan. 

 

Yugyeom lifted himself to his feet, pulling the blanket to cover Jaebeom’s shoulders, and he left the room with arrows in his chest. He didn’t look back and he didn’t stumble, swinging the messenger bag over his shoulder and disappearing for the second time to seek out Youngjae. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> r i p to us all 
> 
> send me things here if you want: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> send anto things if you want: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> And we have the gc open still if ur interested: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	10. Scene X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always a lot happens in this chapter so know the tags uwu also i know this chapter is a little shorter but the rest of them are kinda short just bc we didnt make them like emotionally overwhelming (even writing them was like Whoa okay we need a break here so)

The sentiment of the geode wasn’t lost on Jaebeom at all, but he had no reason to carry it with him, or hide it out of sight. He left it in the room as another point of connection, so if Yugyeom was emotionally unsettled and drifting, he could link with the stone and trigger the memories they made in that room, and the many other arguments and mistakes Jaebeom solved there well before the king had returned. He couldn’t exactly figure out what Yugyeom was doing with his favorite earring now, and all he could do was believe in him as promised. 

 

Jaebeom kept his hair styled down in an attempt to distract everyone else from noticing the missing accessory, and he went about the day as usual. Youngjae was obviously planning something big for their service calls to be lower level arrangements, but even for a regular house blessing and clearing, Jaebeom wasn’t allowed to be alone. He was partnered with Jackson, and when Jaebeom’s magic went a little haywire producing flames instead of smoke, he was actually thankful he hadn’t tried to break Jinyoung’s new rule. Jackson had a couple mishaps in his rune chanting, accidentally making the trapped residual think they were still human instead of telling them to pass on peacefully; Jaebeom was the one to balance out the mistake, and they left with the house perfectly unscathed. 

 

Jackson sat in the passenger seat with his feet pressed against the glovebox, picking at the threads of denim outlining the holes revealing his knees. “So...Yugyeom kinda disappeared last night.” 

 

“Hm, did he?” Jaebeom tightened his grip on the wheel. 

 

“Did he go to his mom’s house again,” he asked, full of sarcasm. 

 

Jaebeom was in a position now where he, too, had to keep secrets, and to do that, he had to start dodging questions. “He doesn’t tell me anything, so I couldn’t say. I  _ can  _ say I’m hungry for pizza.” 

 

Jackson groaned and sunk deeper into the seat. “C’mon Jaebeom, I’m being serious. I’m having some intense inner debates with the angel on my right shoulder and the warrior on my left.” 

 

“Listen to the warrior, Jackson. Until the next time Gyeom asks something stupid, don’t worry about it.” 

 

Jackson hummed and whirred to himself, setting free a piece of unraveled thread out the window. He leaned against the door frame. “Just take us home and get your pizza delivered. I need space.” 

 

Jaebeom was going to argue that picking up a pizza on the way home would allow him to get up and stretch again, feel the universe around him, but it wasn’t the type of space he needed. He was requesting time away from Jaebeom, and perhaps the rest of the coven. “If it helps, I don’t really know his plan either.” 

 

“How can you still trust him if he’s just running off?” 

 

Jaebeom sighed, remembering when they all defended Yugyeom in the roughest times and kept him safe no matter the odds. “Because he could have easily outed us for cash before this. Because he asked to be so deeply incorporated to keep his friend safe, even if it didn’t work how he wanted. Because he’s still here, Jackson, and keeps returning to us with apologies and affections,” he mimicked some of Jackson’s earlier words back at him, “and it matters. It matters that he didn’t bring Youngjae back here. It matters that he hasn’t helped Youngjae summon another witch or demon to ruin us.” Jaebeom gently released his grip before he broke off the entire steering wheel. “I know he lied, and he’ll continue to lie, but I don’t have the answers. And that means whatever he’s doing is too delicate, and the truth he’s holding onto could be what tears us apart for good. He doesn’t want that.” So much for subtlety, Jaebeom scolded himself. 

 

Jackson stared at him as he sped up their driveway and harshly parked, the sudden action jarring both of them a little out of their seats. But Jaebeom didn’t know how many more times he’d be willing to give this spiel. He wasn’t going to make his family see things his way, and he couldn’t force them to leave the past behind for once, so if they didn’t want to believe in Yugyeom, it was wholly on them to be wrong. 

 

Now that the car was parked, Jaebeom stared Jackson down.  “How could we ever expect the soul to become light again by forgiving the past, when we aren’t capable of it ourselves?” 

 

Jackson’s dark brown eyes widened, and then he was closing them and slowly shaking his head, climbing out of the car and heading inside. Jaebeom had thought it was a reasonable enough point, but apparently it struck too deep to be helpful. Jaebeom tried to shrug it off before entering the house, and just as he was stupid enough to push his hair off his forehead, Mark loudly bit on a cracker, leaning against the wall by the kitchen. 

 

His expression was completely deadpan and apathetic and Jaebeom couldn’t guess what he was going to say before he said it. “I hope you realize there’s no silver on your ear.” 

 

“Thank you Mark, as if I didn’t notice my ear feeling lighter.” He threw his gloves from his back pocket onto the coffee table and settled into the loveseat. He didn’t even know if Mark’s observational skills and ridiculously zoomed vision were simply a part of the package for a servant witch, or if that was just Mark’s personal attributes. 

 

“Did you lose it?” He strode over and offered Jaebeom a cracker. 

 

“I dunno. Could have fallen off during our job.” 

 

“Where nothing attacked you.” Mark nodded, wandering his mind before nodding some more. “Right,  _ totally  _ convincing. Good lie, precious.” 

 

“I really don’t know when it went missing, okay?” It was definitely the closest to the truth he could get to make a believable lie. 

 

Mark leaned in. “If it was Yugyeom, you know Jinyoung is gonna roast him alive--literally, like, cook him up for dinner and make you eat it and then tie you up to suffer for a millenia more, right?” 

 

Jaebeom just wanted to be left alone now. “Shit gets lost, Mark. It happens and we don’t dwell on it because we have bigger things to worry about.” 

 

Jinyoung stepped into the living room, a modest book in his hand and Nora sidling near his feet. “What’d you lose?” 

 

Mark tapped him on the shoulder. “You were the best, kitten. I’ll leave my crackers as a peace offering on your grave.” He almost walked away but glanced back completely serious, and quietly added, “If he even gives you a grave.” And then he darted off into a corner of the house where he wasn’t likely to hear their heated arguments. 

 

Jinyoung eyed him cautiously, seeing his gloves on the table and that he still had on all of his clothes. 

 

Jaebeom wasn’t going to get away this time, and he had to keep Jinyoung calm before he noticed the earring was gone and exploded. “Jinyoung, love,” Jaebeom stood up and took heavy steps towards him. “My strategic, very  _ rational  _ husband--” 

 

Jinyoung hit his shoulder with the book, which felt more like a fifty ton truck slamming into him at full speed. And then he attacked his chest and his temple, ending the madness with a harsh pull on his lobe. It was too late now. “Breathe deep, Jaebeom. I’m ripping your ear  _ completely  _ off.” 

 

Jaebeom clung tightly to Jinyoung’s wrist. “I was wrong to wear it out, Jinyoungie, but I’ve never lost it before. I didn’t think it’d ever be a problem.” 

 

“Because it’s not supposed to be a problem. That earring is spelled to come off when it’s  _ taken  _ off, Jaebeom. And guess who’s magically not here after it was taken off?” 

 

Not even Jaebeom had known that. He always thought it strange that even in the worst missions and circumstances, the hoop never once came undone unless he personally unhooked it. Jinyoung had always said it would be safe to wear at any point, but he hadn’t thought about it actually being spelled. 

 

“Okay, can we just let the ear free? It didn’t do anything wrong.” And it was inflamed like it was infected and going numb along the shell, and his ear was literally the last thing he needed to lose. 

 

“I said I was done with lies, Jaebeom.” 

 

Jaebeom couldn’t concentrate on his words like this, so he growled and tore Jinyoung’s grip off his ear. It hurt like his ear had actually been ripped off with it, but it was still attached to his head. “My deep, heartfelt speeches obviously fall flat and it means shit to everyone that I choose to protect him, but that’s what we signed up for, Jinyoung. He’s in trouble trying to protect us, so I’m keeping him safe, too.” Jaebeom softly held Jinyoung’s face in his hands. “ _ Please _ Jinyoungie, you’re usually so calm and level headed about these things. To find the unbiased truth, right?” 

 

Jinyoung’s stern expression gave way to stress and endless worry, and he gently rubbed Jaebeom’s ear between his fingers to ease the fever he caused. “And I’m looking for it, but my instinct tells me that you’re the target--not us, not Yugyeom.” 

 

“I know what that earring meant to us, but it’s only sentimental. It’s not like Yugyeom stole me away into the night.” 

 

Jinyoung’s hand slid to rest in the crook of his neck. “Isn’t that what he did? It’s more than  _ just  _ an earring, Jaebeom. It’s a strong, personal connection to you, your energy, your  _ life _ .” He glanced down, avoiding Jaebeom’s gaze. “Who knows what the king can do with that?” He took a quiet moment for himself, hand settling even more against his neck until it was a heavy weight and Jaebeom forced himself not to melt from the comforting pressure. “Yugyeom may be an innocent party, but he’s done a very dangerous thing. We can’t afford to go backwards because of his ignorance.” 

 

It was his own way of warning Jaebeom to either keep Yugyeom in check, or let him go before anything worse happened. But Jaebeom couldn’t do that. He was willing to wait it out just a little longer. If Yugyeom had taken his ring, then they’d have a problem, and Jaebeom would begin the war against him. Even the king wasn’t capable of stealing the ring without Jaebeom knowing before it was off his finger, so he knew Yugyeom wouldn’t have anything else to take.  

 

He lifted his hand and pointed to the ring, sharing that conviction aloud. “If this miraculously disappears, or he hurts anyone in this house, then I’ll admit my mistake and make things right.” 

 

Jinyoung dropped his hand to his side, completely dejected. “For the record, I think the damage is already done, but there’s no point in arguing if neither of us have proof of what’s really happening. I’m just going to say I think you’re being stupid and leave it at that. For now.” 

 

There wasn’t any malice in his tone, so Jaebeom rolled out his irritations and fondly pet Jinyoung’s hair. “We’ll find out sooner or later whose side he’s on.” 

 

Jinyoung pouted and sulked, but didn’t make a move to escape the touch. 

  
  


*

  
  


Youngjae ran his fingers along the hickey he left on Yugyeom’s rune tattoo. The younger hissed and whined about how sensitive it was, but Youngjae didn’t want to stop trying to claim it for himself. He had been too proud of Yugyeom returning so soon with the earring, and he hadn’t been able to control himself, but the last thing he was expecting to see when Yugyeom stripped down was a mark that tied him to the coven. 

 

He propped his head up on his hand, lazily tracing the pattern until Yugyeom’s chest rose and fell at a normal rate. “It’s as if you were a child who found a pretty stencil and a bottle of India ink--a silly little prank to annoy your parents without realizing the permanent consequences.” Yugyeom rolled his head to the side to glance at him, only able to keep his eyes open halfway. “To be ashamed of such a small, decorative mistake,” Youngjae hummed and smiled to himself. “That’s cute.” 

 

The tips of Yugyeom’s ears and his neck flushed, and Youngjae couldn’t help but place his palm over Yugyeom’s heart. The younger’s eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed hard, silently inhaling through his nose before covering Youngjae’s hand with his own. “I think it’s more like disappointment? It only unlocked more of my empathy.” 

 

Youngjae put his attention back on the empty rune, wishing his fingers were a paintbrush that could color over it. “Jackson really should have tried harder. For such a master, this work is his weakest.” He reached up to caress Yugyeom’s cheek and this time, the boy opened his eyes, full of hurt and doubt. “Have to wonder if it was sabotage.” 

 

“But he said rune magic is its own entity--had to choose whether to accept me or not.” 

 

“Oh my sweet, naive Gyeomie.” Youngjae tutted and straddled one of his thighs, centering Yugyeom’s face on the pillow with both hands to heal him while hurting him with such a shattering truth. “He wasn’t lying, but he simply didn’t infuse enough magic to make a difference. The king inside me knows Jackson always strengthened runes by putting his own spin and flourish on them. Absolutely no textbook designs allowed once he mastered the element.” Yugyeom’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. Youngjae massaged his tight muscles with his thumbs. “Look at the harm they’ve done to my baby. Not even giving you a proper chance.  _ Underestimating _ you,” he lowered his voice, a snarl hiding just behind his teeth. “They won’t even have time to grovel once I make you a king.” 

 

Yugyeom’s eyes wandered, and Youngjae allowed him time to get lost in his own thoughts, the younger gripping his hips to stay somewhat grounded. It was a devastating realization that maybe, all along, the coven had planned to betray the three of them. If they didn’t do their best to protect Bambam, and they didn’t do everything they could to impart magic into Yugyeom’s aura and blood, maybe they had always wanted to abandon them. Youngjae was on the fence about how to handle Bambam, but he knew the rest of the coven’s time was fast approaching, and Yugyeom wouldn’t be there to save them with his empathy. 

 

Yugyeom’s mind returned to Youngjae and he poked at Jaebeom’s feather charm now adorning his ear. “What else do you need for this to work? To connect to Jaebeom.” 

 

“Just some time. I’m still recovering memories, but I almost have the full ritual unlocked.” He booped Yugyeom’s nose. “Also you.” 

 

His soft eyes widened. “Me?” 

 

Honestly, how did Yugyeom survive without him? “Of course, silly boy. You are going to be my other half, remember?” He brushed Yugyeom’s bangs lightly to the side and coerced away the stress at his temples with his fingertips. “Now, I also need you to tell me how you did it. How you got the earring without disturbing him.” 

 

Yugyeom did his best to shrug while laying down. “I just did what you said, hyung, and while he was sleeping--” 

 

Youngjae shushed his lips with one finger. “No, no,” he shook his head. “ _ What  _ did you do to him?” When he hooked his finger on Yugyeom’s bottom lip, the younger seemed to understand what he was after. 

 

“Oh,” he said softly. “ _ Oh _ ,” he repeated, nodding his head and licking his lips. “If it’ll help.” 

 

“It’ll help  _ immensely _ ,” Youngjae smirked, firmly holding Yugyeom’s chin. 

 

Yugyeom shyly launched into a story of seduction--having caught Jaebeom at a particularly emotional time, brooding over his magic and raging over arguments within the house, and even if Yugyeom wasn’t Jaebeom’s favorite person, he bravely used that wrathful despair against him, persuading the grand coven leader that he just needed to take that anger to bed. Jaebeom kept begging for him to fuck harder, but Yugyeom wanted to torture him in his own way and stuck with a slow pacing, not giving in to his want to either rip someone or be ripped in half. Yugyeom had pressed into him and held him down, building the witch’s orgasm with his own techniques, and Jaebeom was lost in the feeling for several minutes. After that, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep as if he were temporarily dead, and that’s how Yugyeom managed to get away with the theft. 

 

Youngjae reeled over the fact that Yugyeom took full control at every step, and behavior like that was worlds above a state of kingship. Yugyeom was going to be absolutely perfect. 

 

Youngjae’s chest thudded and raced, fingers itching to dig into Yugyeom’s skin again. He grazed over Yugyeom’s nipples, kissing him as he slightly trembled. “Wish I could crown you right now--ride you on  _ our  _ throne.” He rolled his hips, dropping his head at the feeling of friction between his cock and Yugyeom’s naked thigh. A moan escaped when he imagined Yugyeom wearing a crown of amethyst, the kingdom crest on a fitting chain around his neck, appearing cold and commanding to everyone else, but smiling and bending into something glorious and glowing when in Youngjae’s presence. 

 

“I don’t need those things, hyung. Even without witch magic and a regal crown, I’m on your side.” He ran his hands over Youngjae’s back, seemingly drawing along the branches of his magic mark. Yugyeom waited for their eyes to meet and then said, “I’m pledging my life to you.  _ You  _ are my throne and my crown, so if you want more from me, take it. I know you won’t hurt me.” 

 

Youngjae’s head spun for a moment. He finally had someone listening to him, and granting him affection without question. Yugyeom lied and stole for him--was spying and fighting in a deadly battle all because he said to. Even without material versions of Yugyeom’s regalia, he was a king to one person in this realm. “Sweet, worthy Gyeom-ah.” 

 

There was so much he wanted to say but didn’t have the patience to confess them. He was going to care for him more than the four traitors combined. With the protection spell, he could even watch over him and feel if he was distressed. Without the soul, Yugyeom was legally less of a king, but he was more important than a mere subject. Yugyeom wasn’t someone to rule over. He was someone to confide in and look to for support and guidance if Youngjae ever lost faith in himself, or couldn’t control his magic for vengeance. Yugyeom was his own special variety of royalty, which was what made him deserving. 

 

Youngjae spoke through his actions, kissing Yugyeom breathless and raw, pulling his hair until his head leaned with it, leaving his entire flushed neck exposed. Youngjae tweaked and pinched his nipples while sucking bruises into his skin. He wanted to erase every phantom ache of the coven having touched Yugyeom; he could give him something even better to remember and want after anytime he was away from his kingmate.  

 

He licked and bit Yugyeom’s nipples until they were beyond sensitive and pushing towards sore, moving on to overwrite any remaining traces of Jackson in the tattoo. It really was just like any other common street tattoo, but the rune witch was the one to ink it into his flesh, and it wasn’t fair for Yugyeom to only think of that disappointment whenever he had to see the ink in a mirror. He didn’t mind if the younger held onto it as a grudge, but to Youngjae, the stark black against his paler waist was something to behold. He accidentally let his greed take over, tearing into Yugyeom’s tattooed flesh with nails and eager teeth. As soon as he broke skin, he immediately licked over the shallow thin cuts, and apologetically kissed Yugyeom’s face.

 

“I’m so sorry, Gyeomie. It was already sensitive from earlier, and I just got carried away. You didn’t stop me--” 

 

Yugyeom grabbed Youngjae’s hand and put it over his chest, likely regaining his own bearings. “It’s okay,” he obviously said more to himself. After another breath, he threaded his fingers in Youngjae’s hair. “It didn’t hurt much. It felt  _ really  _ good, hyung.” 

 

Youngjae hoped that meant his protection spell was actually working, or that Yugyeom was just extremely fond of him and would let him do literally anything he wanted. He didn’t want to risk more physical harm, so he mentally noted to only tease the tattoo until the skin healed and calmed. “That’s all I need--for it to feel good.” He smiled and kissed Yugyeom near his cupid’s bow. 

 

And then Youngjae sat up, dragging one of Yugyeom’s hands with him, sucking his long fingers into his mouth while he teased his own cock. Yugyeom’s lips fell open while he watched, eyes hooded and lusting as he whined for more. Youngjae found it more entertaining to string him along and test how long it took for Yugyeom to beg for attention, or take control of his pleasure. Youngjae decided to leave it up to chance, releasing Yugyeom’s wrist so he could touch him as he wished. Yugyeom continued to slowly fuck his mouth with his fingers, even pressing against his tongue and forcing his mouth to stay open until his saliva threatened to wet his chin and neck. 

 

Yugyeom trailed his slick fingers down Youngjae’s body, and Youngjae chose that moment to ignore his cock for Yugyeom’s, flicking his thumb over the head and lightly running his nails up the smooth length. The younger tensed beneath him, and without warning, Youngjae turned around, positioning his ass near Yugyeom’s face and his mouth near his cock. He didn’t waste any time wrapping his lips around it, using his hand to stroke where his mouth couldn’t reach. 

 

He heard a rustling and fumbling, and then Yugyeom was licking into him while caressing his ass and thighs. Youngjae moaned around his cock and rocked back against his tongue, letting himself float in such a simple pleasure for awhile. When Yugyeom’s whimpers increased, he opened his mouth and Yugyeom’s his cock fall against his stomach. Youngjae wiped his mouth off on his arm and faced Yugyeom again, reaching over him to grab the lube. He messily slicked up Yugyeom’s dick, and wiped the rest along his hole, abandoning the bottle on the floor. 

 

He liked the pressure and the stretch of sinking onto a cock without much preparation. He took his sweet time adjusting to Yugyeom as he sheathed him inch by inch, deeply exhaling and relaxing when he had Yugyeom fully inside of him. He had only rode Jaebeom before this, but Yugyeom hit him at a different angle, almost a little too long, but after a minute, he appreciated that aspect. 

 

Yugyeom gasped and clutched at the sheets, never taking his eyes off Youngjae. Youngjae lifted almost all the way off, and easily sunk back down. He was addicted to the smooth pull and the effortless slide in, and once he was comfortable and desperate, he gave Yugyeom another show. He sucked Yugyeom’s fingers into his mouth, rolling and snapping his hips just to feel Yugyeom’s dick twitch inside him. He left his mouth open because Yugyeom obviously liked seeing him wrecked. He was almost a drooling mess when he dragged Yugyeom’s hand slowly down his chest and stomach until he reached his leaking, neglected cock. When Yugyeom circled his hand around it, Youngjae groaned and heaved, collapsing onto his elbows with his forehead against Yugyeom’s burning chest. He fucked himself into Yugyeom’s hand and rocked back on his cock, the two sensations mixing until his breath came heavy. 

 

Yugyeom’s free hand tugged on his hair, and he naturally bucked his hips to meet Youngjae’s rhythm. Youngjae pulled himself together enough to lift his head and attack Yugyeom’s lips. Yugyeom melted and whimpered into the kiss as Youngjae fucked himself harder, and that seemed to ultimately break Yugyeom. 

 

His nails bit into Youngjae’s shoulders as he mumbled out his gratitude in fragments. “ _ Please _ \--can’t hold on. Too good...Wanna be yours. Show me I’m yours, my king, please,” he whispered and moaned. 

 

Youngjae only cared about the last part, releasing a breathy growl and holding Yugyeom’s chin so he couldn’t look away. “My beautiful Gyeom,” he keened, kissing the corners of his lips. “It’s okay. Come for me--for your king,” he corrected with a smirk. 

 

He slowly sat up so Yugyeom could fuck into him better and deeper, and even without him keeping a hand on his face, Yugyeom’s gaze never strayed and never closed. Youngjae watched his eyes flutter and widen as his pleasure built, his lips parting and cheeks blooming honeycrisp red as the orgasm finally burst through him. It was enough to push Youngjae over the edge with him, aware of the twitching cock and thick wet cum inside him, and the king title echoed in his ears. He came all over Yugyeom’s fist and stomach, a spurt painting his chest. 

 

Youngjae’s muscles were trembling too much at first, but Yugyeom wasn’t demanding he get off, so he lurched forward to kiss them through the aftershocks. He wasn’t afraid to dig his nails into Yugyeom’s arms, and his chest and sides, brushing over the recovering tattoo once more. And then he carefully crawled forward until he was devastatingly empty. He nuzzled into Yugyeom’s neck to catch his breath and balance because they needed to shower  _ soon _ , otherwise he’d fall into an endless phase of complaints and he didn’t want to be grumpy with Yugyeom. 

 

Yugyeom played with his hair and toyed with the earring, and eventually Youngjae felt stable again. “When you called me your king…” 

 

Yugyeom chuckled to himself, but his body nervously stiffened. “It wasn’t on purpose, hyung,” he tried to amend. “I just imagined some things and it happened.” 

 

Youngjae pet his softened pink cheek. “No, my baby, it’s fine. I liked when you said it. It’s been far too long since I’ve been called a king with such adoration.” 

 

“So if I accidentally…?” 

 

Youngjae grinned and nodded. “It’ll be your preference, but I won’t be punish you.” 

 

Yugyeom sighed and relaxed back into himself. “Thank you--for taking care of me. I’ll follow you anywhere, my king.” 

 

Youngjae didn’t know if he was forcing it now, or if he enjoyed freely saying it now that he had permission, but Youngjae didn’t dispute it. “Good, because I’m not ready to let you go tonight. We have to shower and then go gather ingredients.” 

 

Yugyeom’s eyebrows shot up. “For the ritual?” 

 

“For  _ dinner _ ,” Youngjae deadpanned. “But perhaps if we come across the necessary ritual items, we’ll buy those, too.”

 

“Oh. Right...food.” His stomach growled and he blushed, embarrassed. “Forgot about that.” 

 

“You’re too important to let starve, unfortunately,” Youngjae teased, kissing his cheek one last time before carefully standing up. “Shower. Before I get unbearable.” 

 

Yugyeom gave a small smile and followed him into the bathroom. 

  
  


*

  
  


Jackson paced around his workspace after accidentally hearing Jinyoung and Jaebeom’s conversation. He wanted to keep believing in Yugyeom, stick by him as he had before, but it was impossible to know if he was being manipulated into completing the tasks for Youngjae’s victory. It was possible he stole the earring just to save his own life without knowing what the awakened king could do with it, and that made him uncomfortably unpredictable. 

 

He rolled out his chair and collapsed into it, elbows resting on the edge of the desk as he ran his hands over his face. He didn’t know why Jaebeom hadn’t simply burned the towel he cleaned his dagger with, but he also questioned himself for removing it from the trash bin as a precaution. If Yugyeom was in need of the blood curse, wouldn’t he have said something? He would have asked for it, unless his mind was already pledged to serve Youngjae and no one else. 

 

Jackson hung his head and tried to stretch his neck to rid himself of the chaos, of the fragments of memories when he was once a victim of nearly choosing doubt over loyalty and friendship. When a soft, ominous voice slowly convinced him Jinyoung was ready to commit treason and needed simple guidance in the right direction--a direction that would safely leave him an emotionless pawn. If Jackson could do that one tiny favor, and keep it a secret, everyone would remember their places within the kingdom and find peace again. And Jinyoung would live with his honor intact.

 

Jackson knew blood magic was a finicky thing, and just like runes, only few even had the ability to wield that power, let alone become a master of the rituals and recipes. He didn’t want to be trained by a blood magic master, but he couldn’t say no to testing his limits, and keeping his title and achievements. 

 

He had been too naive, hoping to keep Jinyoung and himself and the others alive if he created a blood connection, and he failed in understanding it was just another plot to name them traitors. He had gotten as far into the ritual then as he was now--staring at dried blood on a towel next to a small shot glass of water. Two guards had stormed in and muted his magic with special cuffs, and no one ever bothered to prove it was Jinyoung’s blood even after he admitted it--his honest confession only made the punishment worse on Jinyoung. They made it seem like Jinyoung had convinced Jackson to put the king under a blood curse, and his confession had to be a cover. The narrative fueled the king’s jealousy and burning rage to watch Jinyoung lose everything and strip him of his crown, his title, and his name. If Jackson hadn’t spent so much time warring with himself, maybe he would have completed it faster. Maybe Jinyoung wouldn’t be a fallen prince. 

 

Jackson was going through the same fight, just about Yugyeom, wondering if doing this was really a way of protecting him, or if it’d only hurt him and encourage Youngjae to destroy the coven. He didn’t even know if the earth and the stars could handle the energy he’d need to make it work, but he didn’t have many other options. 

 

He heavily sighed into the empty space, accordion folding the towel so the dried stains were secure, and he stood up to grab a tote bag. He wouldn’t be able to complete the work inside the house without someone else feeling the vibrations, so he gathered the few rune tiles he’d need, some herbs and ink, a piece of paper and a small fairy sized glass bottle, and made ready for the forest. 

 

He didn’t want to cause any suspicion, so he made sure to announce his leave to Jinyoung, mainly because he was sitting on the couch, pouting over a journal he wasn’t actually reading. 

 

Jackson’s chest strained and twinged with his past wrongs and guilt as he approached him. “Hey Jinyoungie.” 

 

“I don’t like that look. I’m all talked out, Seunie, so don’t try it,” he said, flopping the journal haphazardly onto the cushion beside his feet. 

 

Jackson tried to shrug off whatever  _ look _ he wore. He crouched down and put his hands on Jinyoung’s thighs. “I just have some stuff to get rid of, but I don’t wanna risk infecting the house more. It might take a few days, but call me if you need help. I won’t be unreachable.” 

 

Jinyoung shook his head. “I don’t want to know, so just go. But if Greg starts her infernal screeching without you--” 

 

Jackson held his hand in front of Jinyoung’s mouth to cut off his heated threat. “Mark can handle her. Or maybe Bammie.” 

 

Jinyoung playfully tried to bite his hand, but kissed his palm with distaste instead. “Just come back, or they might die.” 

 

His friend was just worried about the instability, and the lack of support Jackson would have out in the wild. Honestly, he was a little afraid too--more about what insects and intruders he’d face if his barriers didn’t stop them--but also he was afraid of failure. Of not being strong enough to pull off such an intense ritual without passing out from exhaustion. 

 

Jackson entwined their hands a brief moment and gave a small smile. “A few days. That’s all.” 

 

Jinyoung said everything else with his silent gaze and knitted eyebrows, lips in a pout because he’d be the last cool-headed one remaining. As long as Mark and Jaebeom didn’t confront each other about the serious issues, Jinyoung was going to be fine. 

 

Jackson left him with one last kiss for courage, and then he trudged towards the forest to do something he hoped he wouldn’t regret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so :))) we havin fun
> 
> you can contact me at: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> to contact anto: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) and [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> And we have the gc open still if ur interested: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	11. Scene XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always the tags are very important to this chapter like a lot of them lol

Yugyeom woke up in a weaving maze of nightmares, some of them not his own, but one clearly stemmed from the seed of doubt Youngjae had planted regarding his tattoo. He replayed every time the coven had saved them, and tried to protect them, but he couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that maybe they had been holding back on their magic somehow, or could have used a protection spell as a precaution for Bambam and decided it was better to use him as bait. His brain spun into a future dreamscape with an army full of dark, immoral witches marching their way towards him with their magics crackling and hissing as his rune tattoo began to disappear like it was only drawn on with washable marker. He had pleaded to Jackson for any kind of backup just to escape and recover, but the blonde shook his head and retreated into the shadows, leaving Yugyeom screaming and gasping. 

 

He must not have audibly panicked himself awake because Bambam was only mumbling his worry and not pleading for Yugyeom to remember everything had been a nightmare. He carefully untangled from his friend and slowly rolled off the bed, turning back around to card his fingers through Bambam’s hair. He covered his arms with the blanket and waited until he melted into the pillows and the warmth before leaving their private bedroom. It was sometime before 4 AM, and the stirring shadows within the house led him to the alcove by the library entrance. 

 

His heart beat faster with the terror and fear that the ones he was sacrificing himself for were going against him, and he knew even carrying that doubt meant he was failing himself. Even his dream caused him to keep checking under his shirt to see that his tattoo hadn’t disappeared. Because if he was dreaming about it, given his empathy, there was a reason to think a reverse ritual like that existed. 

 

He was thunking his head against the cold wall when Jaebeom came up and placed his hand over Yugyeom’s shoulder. “I’ll try to get Jinyoungie to let you into the library again.” 

 

Yugyeom didn’t even know he had his privilege revoked, which only added fuel to the fire burning his skin. He was sweating and aggravated and losing his perception of who the villain actually was. “I think I’m fucked up, Jaebeom,” he whispered to the wall. 

 

He heard Jaebeom step closer, and he massaged down the small of his back for easy emotional support. “It’s okay, Yugyeom-ah. You’re doing what you have to.” 

 

Yugyeom faced him, staying pressed against the solid wall so he didn’t collapse and have a total meltdown. “No, like…” He deeply inhaled and fidgeted with his hair before resting his palm over his rune mark. “I need you to tell me--or remind me,” he fluttered his eyes closed and shook his head because everything they had survived blended together with the  _ facts  _ Youngjae had told him and he couldn’t recall which was the truth, or which facts he had already learned and forgotten within his doubt. “Just tell me again that you did  _ everything  _ to protect Bammie, and that Jackson hyung didn’t make my tattoo bland on purpose.” 

 

Jaebeom slowly grabbed hold of his shoulders. “What’s going on, Gyeom? If you need to stop--” 

 

“No,” he interrupted a little louder than he meant to. “No, he’s just getting in my head, but I can’t abandon him, Jaebeom.” He slumped forward, hooking his chin on Jaebeom’s shoulder. “We’re all on the same side, right? You weren’t just using us as bait to lure the king?” 

 

Jaebeom coddled him, threading his fingers through his hair. “Why the fuck would we have done that? You didn’t always see how hurt Jinyoungie was when the two of you were attacked instead of us. And from the beginning, I didn’t want you three in the house because it meant dealing with the same idiots every day. It risked making dark energy attach to you and we didn’t need that chaos.” He settled his hands on Yugyeom’s sides. “We’d never use anyone for anything dangerous, okay? We didn’t even know you were attracting the king’s attention--or friends with him. Jackson and Mark couldn’t even trace him.” 

 

Yugyeom took a moment to just breathe Jaebeom in--his moonlit forested scent grounding him in their beginnings when all they did was fight about living in the house, and how Jinyoung entrusted him with the geode because it was meant to heal. He remembered how Jackson had gone over the difficulties of precautionary protection because there were different kinds for different attacks, just like immunity shots only worked on a particular strain of a single virus, and it had been too much magic for Bambam to accept into his body after all the harm he’d experienced, leaving him with a rune tile. And each member of the house had tried their hardest to convince Youngjae to stay so they could discuss their history and honesty over time, but it was obvious the king had only seen those attempts as acts against him. 

 

“What about the rune? He’s a  _ master  _ of them. Did he really underestimate me?” 

 

Jaebeom rubbed and lightly scratched over his shoulder blades, kissing his temple. “Let’s just sit on the couch, yeah?” 

 

Yugyeom was reluctant, thinking maybe Jaebeom did have a secret about it, but he listened to him anyway and curled into the corner of the sectional, waiting for Jaebeom to return from the kitchen with a mug of coffee, and a glass of water for him. Yugyeom tucked his knees against his chest and sipped the water. It was refreshing, and cooled his flushed skin enough for him to calm down. 

 

Jaebeom sat in front of him, but faced the television. “Jackson is a master, and because of that, he knows his limits. When you asked him for that mark, you were asking him if he was willing to be responsible for your death.” 

 

“I wouldn’t have died,” Yugyeom pouted against the rim of his glass. 

 

Jaebeom offered him a sharper, caring gaze. “You were wondering if he did his best? If that mark was good enough? Remember the absolute fucking  _ torture  _ you went through--and we went through to care for your aftermath? If he had truly made that design his own and infused his magic, you may have lost limbs, or nerves, or been severed in half in a way even Mark couldn’t sew together. Rune magic on its own is unpredictable, and in the human realm, even if the Earth here is powerful, it is not even half of the raw energy he had at his command in our realm. It was even a miracle that it  _ worked _ . Your empathy ran wilder, connected to that mark instead of being grounded in your geode. If Jackson truly underestimated you and himself, you wouldn’t even have a tattoo.” 

 

Yugyeom thought of the journals and how the magic rooting into his body tried its best to help him understand a language far too archaic for linguists in this realm to know. He saw memories not his own, and at one point was a pillar for everyone to depend on for emotional stability. He was able to find more common ground with Jaebeom, nourishing their mutual trust in each other. Maybe to a king brimming with the power of multiple lifetimes, his tattoo seemed like child’s play, but in this realm, Yugyeom was the only one who could have handled it. 

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning his head on the back of the couch. “It has power,” he reminded himself out loud. “Jackson hyung didn’t even have to try it.” 

 

Jaebeom’s expression softened and he set his coffee down so he could hug Yugyeom’s legs and rest his chin on his knees. “We’re on your side, Gyeomie. You promised not to get manipulated, but if you’re breaking, tell me.” 

 

Yugyeom tapped his glass with his fingernails. “If I were breaking, I don’t think I would have asked for clarity and reassurance. It’s just a weird space between pleasing him as a king, and saving him as my friend.” He had pledged his servitude, so it was more the former that he gave into. He hated to know Jaebeom’s reaction to vague his progress, but Yugyeom couldn’t leave again without him understanding how deep in he was. 

 

Yugyeom cautiously unfolded himself and Jaebeom moved with him, placing his glass on the coffee table beside his mug. Yugyeom gently took Jaebeom’s hands and leaned his forehead against the backs of them, closing his eyes and imagining another world where he could easily promise to protect and serve him, too. He was a leader--a king in his own right, and didn’t deserve any less than what Yugyeom was doing for Youngjae. 

 

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Everything I’m doing now, it’ll be worth it soon.” 

 

“Yugyeom, please--” 

 

Yugyeom held the older’s hands harder against his forehead. “If I can just stay grounded--right here, remembering this--I’ll keep my mind.” He lifted his head but stayed below Jaebeom’s gaze. “I’m almost there, Jaebeom. I think I’m so fucking close to the next step.” 

 

Jaebeom’s eyebrows twitched and he pulled Yugyeom closer. “What are you  _ doing _ ?” 

 

Yugyeom still didn’t want to tell the whole truth, but he had to disclose something. “I need to unlock the rest of his power. The plan is murky, but just trust me. I’m nearly there, and I’ll tell you everything when it works.” 

 

“Yugyeom,” he quieted his voice, tone deadly serious. “You have no idea what might happen.” 

 

“I’ll take responsibility, hyung,” he said in lieu of the witch’s name because he needed the mutual respect between them so he’d realize that Yugyeom was constantly thinking of the consequences. “Just a little longer.” 

 

Jaebeom sighed and reversed their hands, putting Yugyeom’s to his forehead in the same display of silent trust and servitude. “No matter how deep you go with him, I’ll keep pulling you out. I still destructively ache for him, too, so if you get to that place of obsession, find me and we’ll take care of it. Without anyone dying.” 

 

He couldn’t let simple doubt take him down, but Jaebeom was right about the relationship. He didn’t know where he was going to end up after it was over, and he was careful not to confuse a mutual pleasure and plan of vengeance as a tender, loving intimacy. Youngjae was good to him, but too good. Because he wanted Yugyeom to stay on his side forever. And that kind of commitment based on loneliness and possession wouldn’t be able to flourish for either of them. 

 

“It’ll be okay. I’m strong enough,” but he mumbled it under his breath, and let the silence thank Jaebeom for his infinite patience and promise. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Youngjae had finally completed his morning routine. It had been riddled with flaws and an ugly grogginess he couldn’t quite shake, and it left him lethargic through Coco’s walk and a small trip to the store. He was remembering more about Jaebeom--missing his rough touches and growling moans in this life, while dreaming of his throne room from another realm. His skin itched and longed to be bruised for weeks to come. 

 

Because that’s how it was with them. Maybe once it was love, but mostly they had a need to own each other, belong to one another, and wanted everyone to know it. 

 

When the council first informed him of possible treason, he innocently refused to believe a single word of it. It still left him anxious and angry, so he had sought out Jaebeom, dragging him into the throne room and begged to be fucked against every surface. He hadn’t cared how, and Jaebeom quickly learned not to ask the why, and they spent half the day in each others arms. 

 

And then he observed exactly how much time Jaebeom spent with Jinyoung, parading around as if they were actual lovers destined for romantic happiness and when Jaebeom returned at the end of the night, his kingly self claimed Jaebeom as his own, fucking into him until the desk collapsed from their powers colliding. 

 

Youngjae needed to feel that again--wanted to make the bedroom into a battlefield so he could attack as much as he wanted, and receive only what he deserved. He was desperate to use his magic in a fit of passion and feel the world tremble beneath him. Jaebeom could have been his partner again if he wasn’t still a traitor, and there was only one person loyal enough to handle him. He didn’t care if Yugyeom was in a class or shopping or busy snuggling up with the coven so they didn’t murder him; he texted him to come over as soon as possible for an emergency, and that he was allowed to let himself in. As expected, he got a response within the minute. 

 

Youngjae couldn’t wait. He made sure Coco wasn’t going to be able to watch anything that was about to happen, and then he stripped out of his clothes. He was already half hard thinking of when Jaebeom tore into him in the coven’s living room, and what it was like in the old realm when Jaebeom bit into the cherry blossom on his back and dug his nails into his thighs. 

 

Youngjae’s body keened with the phantom touches, and he was nearly crawling into the bedroom for lube and a dildo, positioning himself in front of the mirror. At first, he just wanted to watch how his own hands looked roaming down his chest and stomach--his reflection whimper and whine to be touched as his cock twitched with every movement. He sucked his fingers into his mouth just to understand why Yugyeom had loved the visual so much. He dragged his thumb across his bottom lip, and wished it had been Jaebeom’s. His mind flickered back to a luxurious, royal room on an overcast afternoon where Jaebeom had commanded the attention of his king with a simple hand, fingers on his chin and thumb parting his lips. 

 

It wasn’t enough to do it himself, and his desperation increased until he climbed onto the bed and supported himself on all fours. He grabbed the lube and messily spilled some into his palm and over his fingers, reaching between his legs to tease over his hole. He did his best to look back into the mirror, the tips of his fingers barely fitting inside. His muscles strained and ached at the position, and as much as he wanted to see how far he could open himself like this, he needed to prod deeper. He relaxed down, squishing his face against the pillows and spreading his ass wider with his clean hand. He stretched himself further, too desperate to properly take his time. He had nearly four fingers in, up to the joint and he hated not being able to rut against the sheets. He was hot and breathing heavy, whining to the empty room to give him more. 

 

He tried to fuck himself deeper with two fingers, moaning at the feeling, but mourning the loss of being filled. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he turned around to face the mirror and picked up his toy. He licked and sucked on it, keeping his eyes on his reflection and the way his cheeks had more of a glow than a blush. His hair framed his face in a way that made him only ache to have it pulled. 

 

He eventually spread his legs and marveled at how easily the toy slipped inside, how quick he was to adjust to its size. It was a little too stiff and unnatural, and not at all what he was craving, but he loved watching the length disappear inside. He hooked his other arm around his leg and sunk his nails into his thigh, the skin molding around his fingers. His eyes kept fluttering closed and his cock was painfully hard, leaking a little onto his belly. He debated just finishing it, and working himself up again when Yugyeom arrived, but he heard his cautious voice calling after his moans and whimpers. 

 

“Hyung, are you okay? I’m here--”

 

The taller pushed the door open the rest of the way, eyes widening when he took in the situation. His ears and cheeks reddened, and he avoided Youngjae’s gaze to silently question his options. 

 

“Will you come closer,” Youngjae said through his breaths. 

 

Yugyeom hesitantly walked towards the bed, seeming to gain some courage and confidence with each step. He didn’t waste any time running his hands up Youngjae’s legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “What do you need, my king?” 

 

He needed Yugyeom to fuck him until the bed collapsed--make the walls shake so he’d feel his magic singing through his orgasm. He needed Yugyeom to be rough and merciless. 

 

“Undress,” he said. 

 

Yugyeom nuzzled his thigh before removing his clothes as quickly as possible. He stroked and squeezed his own cock, taking control of the dildo with his other hand, and crouched down until he could rest his head on Youngjae’s leg. Youngjae sucked in a breath now that he finally had the chance to to touch himself again, and the younger took a liking to the sound, choosing that moment to tentatively kiss and bite his thigh. 

 

Youngjae softly grabbed his hair. “Do it. Don’t hold back,” and he said it in a way that indicated there would be consequences otherwise. 

 

Yugyeom continued to toy Youngjae, inhaling before barely scratching skin with his teeth, closing his lips over it. He couldn’t even feel it. 

 

He gripped Yugyeom’s hair tighter. “That’s not even a  _ poke _ . Are you even trying? I said  _ don’t  _ hold back.” 

 

Yugyeom groaned more to himself in frustration and he traded stroking his cock for holding Youngjae’s thigh, giving one last attempt to his mark. He sank his teeth deeper into the flesh, creating a suction with his lips and flattening his tongue where he could. When coupled with the firm dildo being pulled and pushed into him, Youngjae yelped and threw his head back, fisting a hand into the sheets. 

 

“My good Gyeomie,” he whined and slightly thrusted his hips, his thighs flexing with the movement. Yugyeom hummed and let go, licking over the deep hickey and making the other thigh match. Youngjae felt a seam tear on the sheet, and he needed Yugyeom inside of him so badly it was almost irritating. 

 

Yugyeom seemed to get the idea, throwing the toy over towards their pile of clothes, and he climbed onto the bed. Youngjae had him lay down and he slicked his cock, teasing it to full hardness. He straddled Yugyeom, closing his eyes until his ass was stretched and filled. He just rolled his hips at first, fueling his desperation. He slowly lifted himself up, one palm on the bed and the other curled around Yugyeom’s rune tattoo. The younger gently drove into him with matching impatience. The angle wasn’t right and Youngjae couldn’t release all the pent up tension like this, so he climbed off and ushered for Yugyeom to sit up against the pillows. 

 

Youngjae sank down on him again, finally feeling the right depth. He knew riding Yugyeom like this wasn’t going to make him come, but he was having fun drawing this out for as long as possible. Once he found his rhythm, a mix of bouncing on his cock and grinding his hips, he clung to Yugyeom’s back and kissed him for the first time since he arrived. 

 

It was a little shy and unsure, and so far, encouragement by humiliation seemed to work. Youngjae roughly rode his cock and mercilessly pressed his fingers and nails into Yugyeom’s back. “Have I let you kiss traitors too often? Is that why you’ve already forgotten what I like?” 

 

“No, my king, I’m--,” he whined and dropped his head a moment, making a fast recovery. “Feels so good, like my head is spinning.” 

 

Youngjae ran his nails over Yugyeom’s shoulders and down his chest, brushing and pinching his nipples, and letting them slide around his waist. “Then give back what you get, hm? Share that with me.” 

 

Yugyeom was silent, and then he held Youngjae’s face and initiated another kiss, teeth and tongues clashing in a perfect display of unromantic desire. Yugyeom scratched his back open on accident, but Youngjae didn’t make him apologize because his soul mark suddenly lit up his energy and set his heart racing with delicious power. He didn’t even have to ask Yugyeom to mouth down his jaw and leave a sickening, wonderful bruise on his neck, but by the time he was done, Youngjae was ready to be fucked until he came untouched. 

 

“Think you can fuck your king?” 

 

“Let me try,” he whispered. “Wanna be worthy.” 

 

Youngjae smirked and felt his genuine plea. It was almost like he could tell Yugyeom already thought himself as worthy, but more or less begged for a reminder of why he was worthy of a king. Youngjae laid down on the pillows so he could hold onto the rungs of his bedframe if he needed, and Yugyeom added more lube, adjusting Youngjae’s position a bit so his hips were further off the mattress. He slid inside with one smooth thrust, and there was a small tingling in his toes and scalp. Yugyeom snapped his hips again, and he couldn’t deny it felt good, but he wanted to push his partner a little more over the edge. 

 

“Am I supposed to believe you fucked Jaebeom with that dick? Adorable, if that’s all it really took to put him to sleep.” 

 

Yugyeom whimpered and fucked into him harder, squeezing his hips and thighs until the skin was hot and red, and Youngjae suddenly felt a pleasure rip through his entire body, head spinning as he gripped the frame for stability. His gut instinct told him Yugyeom wasn’t going to last much longer, and if he continued to feel this raw passion making his muscles clench and contract, he wouldn’t even know his orgasm had hit. 

 

He hooked his legs around Yugyeom’s waist and held tighter to the frame, encouraging him to fuck as deep as he could go. The bed creaked and trembled, and he swore part of it came from the floor, and he soaked it all in as a pleasurable part of this experience. His breathing became heavy and his toes curled against each other, fingers a little cold from his grasp. 

 

“Just like that--keep going, Gyeom. So close.” 

 

Yugyeom trailed a hand up his thigh and placed it over his stomach. Youngjae could feel his belly tense and heat up under the weight of his palm, and he released a fist from the bed frame to wrap around Yugyeom’s wrist, thrusting up into the pressure and falling down on his warm cock, and then he was reeling through his orgasm, back bowed off the bed while the younger drove into him faster and harder through the aftershocks. Yugyeom slowed his rhythm again and soothed over Youngjae’s stomach. 

 

He somehow predicted Yugyeom wasn’t going to come inside him, even though he wouldn’t have minded, but he could barely breathe, let alone speak his permission. Yugyeom pulled out, sliding his cock between his palm and Youngjae, quickly coming against his sensitive cock with the king title on his tongue. It stirred something odd in Youngjae to think of how both their satisfactions mingled together, like some kind of pact without the usual blood or saliva. It seemed deeper than a promise and more permanent than signing a contract. For once, Youngjae wasn’t eager to clean up. 

 

His earlier need was all but gone, disappearing the rest of the way when he dragged Yugyeom up for more kisses; more teeth and nail marks. Once they redefined their state of calm, Yugyeom was the one to get up for a towel to wipe them off. 

 

“I worried you,” Youngjae said, thinking about his text and what may have gone through Yugyeom’s mind. He lightly brushed Yugyeom’s bangs out of his eyes as he wiped away their mix of cum from Youngjae’s stomach with a damp cloth. 

 

“I shouldn’t jump to negative conclusions. I don’t want you to think I look down on your magic.” 

 

“Of course I don’t think that. I only meant that I should be cautious as to not take advantage of someone so pure hearted and devoted as you.” 

 

Yugyeom’s whole face colored and he kept it hidden until he was done with cleaning. 

 

“Thank you for caring.” Youngjae entwined their hands, and he sensed his nervousness through the touch. “Are you uncomfortable?” 

 

Yugyeom sighed and shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “Just a conversation with myself, my king. I’m humbled by your gratitude.” 

 

“If you have to leave--” 

 

Yugyeom’s eyes widened and he held Youngjae’s hand tighter. “I don’t. Keep me as long as you need.” 

 

“Then lay with me. Get some more rest.” He shuffled back against the wall and patted the space beside him. The taller crawled into bed, knocking his elbow on the frame. He glanced at the offending object, and Youngjae looked at it, too. He really had bent the metal rungs in various ways, some angled forward and some spaced apart. 

 

“That wasn’t always like that, right?” 

 

Youngjae giggled and playfully hit Yugyeom’s shoulder after he settled in. “Silly Gyeom. That’s what happens when you fuck a witch king.”   

 

Yugyeom fidgeted and fought his embarrassment, eventually burying his head in Youngjae’s chest. “I’d do it again.” 

 

Youngjae wrapped his arms around him, massaging his back and gently mussed his hair. “My sweet baby Gyeom.” 

 

They melded together even more and floated into a comfortable silence, at least half-asleep for a good period of time. 

  
  


*

  
  


For once, Yugyeom didn’t wake up in fear or panic. He dreamt of the royal garden before the king fell, before the colors had faded. The endless white backdrop was a grand contrast to the rich hydrangeas and bright green flora taking over most of the space. He was sitting at a smaller round table, a bird chirping happily in a cage, singing a sweet song of healing and kindness while he leisurely read. 

 

Jaebeom had entered with a tray holding a mug of tea and the cutest plate of cookies and crackers, making to escape after setting it on the table. Yugyeom adjusted the sleeves of his robe and eagerly gestured for the witch to sit with him and enjoy the same pleasures. He kept a watchful eye, but accepted the offer, biting into the snacks as he wished. It was freeing, and  _ normal _ , and he didn’t even blink when their hands folded over each other on the table. 

 

The dream ended when that easy happiness did, Jaebeom having to leave when the threat of others seeing them together was close at hand. He was defensive but not regretful, and Yugyeom smiled at their mutual disrespect for certain rules. 

 

And then the white garden was exchanged for the white ceiling of Youngjae’s apartment, and the warmth of Jaebeom’s company faded until he realized it was just him, naked and alone in Youngjae’s bed. He didn’t think Youngjae would have just abandoned him, so he sat up and waited for his dizziness to land before swinging out of bed. He squinted at a pile of clothes on the dresser and read the torn piece of paper lying on top. 

 

_ In the kitchen. These are yours from awhile ago--hope they still fit :(  _

 

Yugyeom laughed to himself that he even included an emoji. The clothes did fit, and he was thankful most of his wardrobe had always ran big. 

 

He was having another war with himself before he stepped out of the room. He had heard and seen and read of the things the king had done after corruption, and there was almost no way to convince him the coven hadn’t betrayed him without going back to their realm, but the king he was dealing with now almost seemed like a completely different person, or soul. Technically he was different because of the reincarnations, but Yugyeom was being treated respectfully, having kindness given to him as if he were equal to a king outside of the promise of receiving the soul shard. 

 

As he tiredly walked towards the kitchen, he wondered what the king was like before corruption--if his lustful possessiveness with Jaebeom still ran rampant in his blood, or if they were soft like his garden dream. He wondered if the coven were just as equal, like maybe they were a circle of friends instead of a structure of power and social classes. Just like he was curious what the coven would sacrifice to save the king, he found himself asking what the king would sacrifice to get the happiness with the coven back. 

 

He hugged Youngjae’s waist and hooked his head over his shoulder, snuggling more into the crook of his neck. There was a spark when Youngjae laughed and called him some sweet nickname, but Yugyeom was anxious to define the emotion or give it a label, so he shrugged it off and simply enjoyed the moment while it lasted. 

 

“Good dream?” 

 

He kissed Youngjae’s neck and breathed him in. He wasn’t the woodsy scent Jaebeom was, but there was something just as addictive and relaxing about it. It reminded Yugyeom of a summer storm during a festival--the fresh metallics of the earth falling from the sky to mix with the made-to-order caramel apples and cotton candy--light and sugary notes under the rolling thunder warning of a downpour. 

 

A part of him almost asked how Youngjae knew to ask if he had a good dream because it was usually a bad dream, but the smarter side convinced him he already knew the answer. So he just agreed with the question and let it go. “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” 

 

“Well, I figured we could gorge on snacks while debating if we want to order a real meal. The tea is almost ready.” 

 

Yugyeom couldn’t help but connect this reality and his empathic dream. Tea and plated cookies seemed too close for comfort to be just coincidence, but maybe Youngjae had seen the same memory and craved that warm affection. “I can carry it out,” he offered, knowing he was Jaebeom in their circumstances.

 

Youngjae craned his neck to glance at him. “Equal responsibility for equal kings. You can take the plate, and I’ll carry the tea.” He smiled until his eyes were crescents, and Yugyeom couldn’t reject him. 

 

They brought everything out to the living room, and Youngjae unfolded a throw blanket, waiting for Yugyeom to sit next to him before laying it down. But there was something about being here and getting so heavily involved in the king’s story that even after his discussion with Jaebeom, he had his mind, but he also found the role of forgiving servitude comfortable. If he sat beside him on the couch right now, he might forget he was dealing with a powerful king, and not his normal friend Youngjae. To keep that division, Yugyeom needed to separate the behaviors, even if it was for a brief moment. 

 

“Let me sit on the floor. At least until the tea is gone.” 

 

Youngjae seemed baffled by the request, pouting at how empty the couch was. “There’s plenty of space. No one will kick you off it.” 

 

“I know, I just…” Yugyeom couldn’t express it in fewer words, so he just sat on the floor with his back touching the edge of the couch, legs folded to the side as he rested his head against Youngjae’s knees. “Like this. Want to feel this.” 

 

Youngjae’s breath hitched and he cleared his throat to mask it, twisting his fingers into Yugyeom’s hair. “Okay, only until that mug is empty.” 

 

Yugyeom kissed his leg over his pants and nuzzled back into it. “Thank you, my king.” 

 

He drank the warm, soothing liquid at his own pace, hugging Youngjae’s legs when he felt like it, wandering through his own thoughts while they paid equal attention to each other, sipping their teas in the quiet space, and making sure they were both eating the snacks to satisfy their stomachs. At one point, Coco darted in and hopped up on the couch to visit Youngjae, sniffing curiously at Yugyeom’s hair and jumping down for his attention. 

 

“You must finally smell like me.” Youngjae sounded more than pleased.

 

He didn’t doubt it. “That’s a relief. I missed Coco.” 

 

He finished his tea while petting Coco, and as promised, he placed the empty cup onto the coffee table and moved to sit on the couch. He set Coco up there as well, hoping she’d settle down faster. Youngjae stretched his legs onto the cushions and laid his head in Yugyeom’s lap, watching the ceiling as his dog curled up along her owner’s thigh. He took Yugyeom’s hand and pressed their palms together, as if he were observing something other than their size differences. 

 

Yugyeom wrapped the blanket around his back and draped the excess over Youngjae’s arms. Yugyeom let go of the weight he had been carrying, shoulders easing into their sockets and his spine cracking until he truly felt like himself. “It’s really nice like this.” 

 

“Like what?” Youngjae glanced from beneath their hands. 

 

“Your vengeance is important, but these moments are powerful, too. Like when you made the doves. Just taking time to enjoy company and recharge, or remember your convictions...I dunno,” he shrugged, “it’s like I’m relearning my best friend, and it’s kind of inspiring.” 

 

“Is my sweet Gyeomie forgetting I can snap him in half with my fingers?” 

 

Yugyeom bravely smiled. “No, my king, I’m well aware. But I also know you wouldn’t do it unless I wrong you.” 

 

“Is underestimating me not a form of wronging me?” 

 

“Would I have let you heal my hand if I were underestimating you?” 

 

Youngjae examined his palm. “That’s true enough. So, what are you relearning?” 

 

“Just...you, I guess. What you went through to get here, and that you’re another survivor, too. Like the others, you did what you had to do to save yourself.” Yugyeom eased his hand into Youngjae’s hair, broaching the topic with caution. “Sometimes, the memories I see because of the empathy make me long for a place I’ve never been. There’s good and there’s bad, but no matter whose memory it is, they always thought of the kingdom as home.” He had to know if Youngjae was nostalgic for it, too. Even if Yugyeom was successful in getting his portal magic in this realm, he had to  _ want  _ to open the portal to his previous realm. “If you have this side that does trust and care for the people close to you, I wonder if you miss that home, too. Before the betrayals and the burdens.” 

 

Yugyeom watched his face carefully, but his lips were pursed and his gaze was steady on dead space, ignoring the ceiling and the furniture, and Yugyeom. 

 

“Do you remember the events before that darkness? When you weren’t just a king.” Yugyeom swallowed and stilled his hand, praying he’d still have it at the end of this conversation. “When you thought you had friends and support...what are your memories like--as Ars?” 

 

Youngjae was quiet for an unnerving amount of time that Yugyeom wouldn’t have been surprised if he was building his magic up to stop his heart or cut some appendage off as a warning, but eventually he covered his face with Yugyeom’s hand. When he spoke, Yugyeom’s chest ached and he violently wished he could return him to that time, and put it in a timeloop so he never thought of betrayal. 

 

“Ars was naive, and generous. He was ready to watch his friends ascend to power, and support them the way they raised him.” Youngjae’s voice cracked and broke, taking a minute to recover, but it didn’t quite work. Yugyeom gently hovered his palm over the older’s eyes so he could fall apart in peace as he wished. “He never once desired the throne, but innocently believed his friends would aid him in creating a fair and just kingdom.” 

 

There was a stinging burn under Yugyeom’s skin, like an infection he could never rid himself of, even if he bled himself dry. 

 

Youngjae clung to his wrist and fingertips, pulling his hand the rest of the way down to be a blindfold. “The soul wasn’t his choice, Yugyeom.” It was hard to tell who he was speaking as--Youngjae who remembered someone else’s life, or an abandoned young boy who became a traumatized young king, afraid to confess his hurt. Maybe it was easier to admit it if he didn’t think of himself as once being Ars. “Why didn’t they understand that?” 

 

Yugyeom lifted his hand and tugged on a corner of the blanket to wipe Youngjae’s tears, but he burrowed into the blanket and curled towards Yugyeom’s stomach, stirring Coco until she huffed and jumped off, walking around to reseat herself by his head. Yugyeom pet her, softly telling her everything was okay. 

 

He wanted to make the corrupted king persona disappear, tell Ars directly that he was understood and supported. The coven was never after his magic, and never planned to poison the rest of the king’s soul out of him--they were always whispering and questioning the intentions of an old regime longing to rule with darkness and fear once more, one who made the king their puppet for mere entertainment and sick satisfaction. He wanted to remind him that Mark served him beyond what his listed duties were; Jinyoung guided his magic even after the soul claimed him, and still tried to watch over him when the council deemed him unfit for the position; remind him that Jaebeom, by definition, became his soulmate and wouldn’t have done anything to tarnish their relationship, regardless of the love being different than what he felt for Jinyoung. They wanted to bring him to the village markets and let him experience festivals as a commoner, but the soul’s jealousy and the council’s infectious words had already taken over, and he couldn’t see how much his three friends thought of him as chosen family. 

 

Even at the end, Yugyeom knew they were desperate to save him, not as a king, but as someone they truly cared for. 

 

“If there was a way to make them understand, would you go back? Do you miss it?” He touched Youngjae’s arm over the blanket to try and calm him down. 

 

He breathed through the last of his sobs and fidgeted with Yugyeom’s shirt, his head still covered with the blanket. “Sometimes,” he mumbled and added, “but only because it was easier to socialize and find freedom. Stupid now to think that had been my cage.” His hand twitched and Yugyeom sensed he was unwilling to get lost in the sorrowful emotions again. He dried his face and sniffled, emerging from the blanket and giving himself a little more space away from Yugyeom’s belly, but never letting go of of his shirt. “I have you, though, to share it with.” 

 

He glanced up, and Yugyeom immediately caressed his cheek. Youngjae sat up and onto Yugyeom’s lap, draping his arms over his shoulders. He didn’t move in for a kiss, or more cuddles. He just studied Yugyeom, trailing a finger over the bridge of his nose and under his eye, fingers coming to rest in his hair. “What was that for,” Yugyeom softly asked. 

 

“I’m just glad I’ve protected you.” He took Yugyeom’s scarred hand and placed the palm over his cheek. There was a pleasing connection, the lingering burning sensations washing away. “My poor Gyeom, suffering as I have. A blood curse on your name, yet you still risk everything for me.” 

 

Yugyeom froze. His brain errored out and for a minute, he couldn’t even ground himself in his surroundings, hearing Youngjae speak as if his ears were stuffed full of cotton. He had meant for Jackson to only attempt blood magic if it was necessary, but he had completed it on his own. That wasn’t an act of betrayal, and it was probably saving him now because Youngjae had a sense of what was tied to Yugyeom’s existence, but he still felt wronged somehow. 

 

Youngjae brought him back to reality, worrying over him and massaging his temples and scalp. “Oh, my baby, I’m so sorry to remind you of it. You’ll be okay, I promise.” 

 

He was afraid to ask if the protection spell was going to cancel whatever harm the blood curse could do, so he swallowed the fear down, hand over his chest to feel his heartbeat even out again. “I was hoping they were only discussing the option and not strong enough to do it, but I guess I was wrong.” 

 

“Listen,” he dropped the pout and sympathetic gaze, sliding into his deadly serious persona of a betrayed king. “I think everything for the ritual--for gaining back the soul for you--is almost complete. Until then, I’d like to gift a little box of relief, if you’d accept it.” 

 

Yugyeom wasn’t going to get a physical box, and frankly, he wasn’t sure what to expect. And he didn’t like that dangerously teasing tone. “What is it?” 

 

“I can summon something now,” he glanced down to Yugyeom’s chest and lightly tugged on his shirt collar. “To the house. It won’t kill them, of course, but they’ll be shaken up.” He snaked his hand around to the back of Yugyeom’s neck, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirked. “Does my sweet Gyeomie want an appetizer before he’s crowned a king?” 

 

The coven was going to cut his tongue out and hang him upside down like a pinata, hitting him with their magic until the protection spell wore off, and not even Youngjae could bring him back. 

 

He didn’t have a choice, and he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong answer, so he took a deep breath and sealed the deal with a heavy burden of a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anto's editor note still in the gdoc from that yugjae scene: (sperm pact yay! ♥)
> 
> anYWAY HOW ARE WE DOING.
> 
> yall can tell me here: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> or tell anto you like her (sperm pact yay) a/n here: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) or [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> and the gc is kinda quiet bc ppl are busy but if you still wanna join here's the stuff: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	12. Scene XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been questioned a lot over if gyeom is being controlled by jae or smth else, and welp, this is the chapter you find out What is happening with gyeomie OwO

Jackson kneeled on the bathroom tile, still dressed in a black tank top and loose basketball shorts, while Jaebeom relaxed in a hot, essential oils bubble bath. Jackson could sense the other hadn’t slept well for almost a century, and that the stress of being a leader re-infused into his powers until Jinyoung banned him from missions and service calls again. Naturally, Jackson was trying to fix it. 

 

He had Jaebeom lay in the water and close his eyes, encouraging him to let his mind wander to more positive things. He sat with most of his back against the tub, but he seemed comfortable, and Jackson started massaging his shoulders. He was soft at first, warming the skin and muscles to his touch, running his hands from Jaebeom’s neck towards his arms. He repeated the movement a few more times before circling his palms near his shoulder blades. Jaebeom’s head was already slowly dropping, so Jackson added pressure with his thumbs, working out the knots and gently easing the stress out of his neck. 

 

He was firmer when Jaebeom asked him to be, and eventually switched to using his knuckles until he felt Jaebeom’s entire spine breathe and realign. He soothed over the nerves and tender muscles and pressed a small kiss to the base of Jaebeom’s neck, releasing the tiniest spell so the muscles would stay refreshed until at least morning. He lightly played his fingertips up and down Jaebeom’s arms, easing into a soft hug with only the porcelain between them. He wet his fingers and combed them through Jaebeom’s hair, and Jaebeom leaned his head against Jackson’s cheek. 

 

He sighed deeply before speaking. “Would you just get in the damn tub already?” 

 

Jackson feigned offense. “You said I could wash your hair for once.” 

 

“And you said we’d bathe together.” 

 

Jackson kept wetting Jaebeom’s hair, not caring if some of the water dripped onto his tank. “We are. We’re both in the bathroom, I’m taking care of you, and then I’ll get into the tub and take care of you some more. Very simple concept, hyung.” 

 

“If I end up bald because of you, I’m ripping your hair out strand by strand and making a wig with it, and I’ll spell it to stay on my head.” 

 

Jackson elicited a strange sound of fear and panic and confidence, and reached for the shampoo. “I’ve seen you blonde, remember? Probably still have pictures somewhere. That one with your teeth covering three-quarters of your face?” 

 

Jaebeom gave a horrified yelp in defeat. “Then I’ll take Bammie’s hair.” 

 

Jaebeom’s hair was saturated enough, so Jackson poured the shampoo into his palm, clipping the cap closed and spreading some onto his other palm. “Don’t think there’s enough hair to cover your head,” Jackson teased, and before he could make a defense about his head not being big (as he always argued it was average and everyone else was just abnormally small), he lathered the shampoo into Jaebeom’s hair. 

 

He concentrated on the roots, giving his scalp a nice massage, too. He mixed in using fingertips and his nails to lift any excess dirt and dandruff clinging to the strands, and Jaebeom languidly moaned into the touch. Jackson held back on making a smug comment and continued washing his hair until the shampoo was losing its lathering power. 

 

“Let’s rinse it off,” he whispered as to not lose the mood. Jaebeom slid further into the water without complaint, and Jackson carefully dipped his hair into the warmth, carding through the strands until the shampoo was gone and only stray bubbles from the bath remained. He quickly squeezed those out and added conditioner into his hair so it’d have time to provide proper nourishment. 

 

Jaebeom supported himself against the side of the porcelain, folding up to make room for Jackson. The blonde undressed and finally stepped into the water. He swirled his hand around to return the water to its hotter temperature. Jaebeom groaned in satisfaction and stretched his legs out beside Jackson’s. He washed and conditioned his own hair, but Jaebeom couldn’t stand not reciprocating and he took Jackson’s razor and the can of shaving cream, motioning for him to sit forward. 

 

They both squished into the middle, knees resting on each other to create a solid foundation for Jaebeom’s elbows so his movements were steady. They had a variety of razors, but when they had time like this, Jackson preferred his straight razor, and Jaebeom had a weakness for intimacy. He had to have control and patience so he didn’t accidentally cut into Jackson’s chin. He was more than concentrated, one hand positioned on Jackson’s face and the other handling the razor. Jackson kept his breathing minimal, and he couldn’t look away from the way Jaebeom parted his lips or cutely clenched his teeth when he shaved over tougher spots. By the end, there was only one very unnoticeable cut under his chin that was likely to heal before anyone else ever saw it. 

 

Jackson felt the smoothness and leaned his head against the tiled wall, absently glancing towards the door. He blinked his eyes when the door wasn’t there. He was suddenly faced with a warped blockade of Yugyeom’s back bordered by the kitchen. 

 

“Jaebeom,” he said nervously, poking his arm. “Jaebeom  _ please _ ,” he shook him so he’d stop fiddling with the razor and the bath suds. 

 

Jaebeom turned his head, eyes closing shut as he screamed at full force, trying to disappear into the bathroom wall. “What  _ is  _ that? Did you spell this bath somehow? Are we hallucinating?” 

 

“I dunno, I wish, and I fucking hope so,” he answered the questions in order. “Should we throw something,” he mumbled. 

 

Jaebeom glanced at the razor and then to the probable rip in the confines of space. 

 

“No, don’t you--” Jackson raised his voice, but Jaebeom ignored him and threw the sharp metal into the image. 

 

It disappeared somewhere on the other side, proving they weren’t tripping on acid. 

 

“Okay, um…” Jackson’s voice pitched higher with his confusion and terror. “Should I, um, just go get that?” If it was an actual portal, he had no way of knowing how stable it was, or if it was a two-way entrance. 

 

Jaebeom’s eyes were glued onto the warped picture of Yugyeom, and he slowly nodded. “Just run  _ really  _ fast.” 

 

He whined like a puppy, but pushed through his fear and sprinted to the center of the bathroom and straight through the portal. He found himself actually standing in the kitchen, naked and covered in soap suds, probably with a bit of shaving cream stuck on his face, and there Yugyeom was, in front of him, doing something on the kitchen island. 

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ Kim Yugyeom,” Jackson yelled and heaved and  _ panicked _ . 

 

It was then he noticed Bambam was in the living room, peering in to see the disaster, but he pointed and screeched, literally climbing onto the back of the couch and pressing himself into the living room window. “Where’s the sink and why is it replaced with the bathroom?” 

 

Yugyeom spun to face Jackson, chef’s knife poised in his hand, and Jackson screamed louder than Jaebeom had. He threw his arm up to shield his face and neck, protecting his chest with the other one. “Don’t fucking  _ kill  _ me! Put the knife down and we’ll talk.” His distress caused Greg to shake the main floor with her wailings. 

 

“Hyung, what’s going on?” He stared at Jackson, naked and vulnerable, then the knife--sharp enough to cut a limb off--and hurriedly set it behind him on the island. “Why are you wet? And naked?” 

 

“Do you  _ not  _ see this,” he grandly gestured to the portal that was between him and the sink. 

 

The portal that wasn’t there. 

 

“Okay, no, it was  _ here _ ,” Jackson adamantly stomped his foot and tried to measure out the size of the portal with his hands. “We were in the bathroom and then this tear in space showed up and I went through it, and ended up here! So what the hell did you do?” 

 

Yugyeom opened his mouth, but Jaebeom stormed out of the bathroom, going on a hell hunt through the living room. “Forget about that wig with Bam’s hair--I’m gonna fucking murder your heathen of a plant and wear it as a warning  _ and  _ a trophy.” 

 

“You were gonna take my hair for a  _ wig _ ,” Bambam offendedly shrieked. 

 

Jackson was  _ stressed _ . He needed to save his plant, but he also needed to get the uncomfortable soap mildew off his body and find out what the actual hell was happening. He groaned and mumbled to himself in several languages, using any words and sensible grammar patterns as fast as he could to formulate his options. Jaebeom’s footsteps were getting farther away, and Jackson huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Bammie, stop him from killing Greg. I’ll reward you later.” The younger accepted the challenge with loud uncertainty and darted after Jaebeom. Jackson put his attention on the tall, suddenly very rogue empathic portal witch, and left no room for denial or debate. “Now, I’m gonna get some clothes, and I expect you to still be chopping the counter in half.” 

 

“Hyung, I was just cutting some fruit,” he answered innocently. “I am just really confused.” 

 

“How do you think  _ I  _ feel?” Jackson paused to collect himself because the goal wasn’t to get riled up and set every candle in the house (and maybe the curtains) on fire. “Just...no more wild portals!” He rounded back into the bathroom and ignored everything Yugyeom tried to say. 

 

He drained the tub and rinsed all the residue off using the shower head, quickly drying and stepping into a clean pair of sweatpants and a sweater that hit his torso right, but sleeves that cradled his hands. He needed fabric to fidget with if he was going to get through this discussion. 

 

The only one they ever knew who could create larger portals was the king, and just as with other magics, humans were never apt to pick up even basic abilities, let alone something as core-rattling as portals, and unless Youngjae was secretly hiding inside the house, that was the only possibility he could think of. He didn’t know what Yugyeom had done this time, but it wasn’t good. 

 

When he returned to the living room, Jaebeom was sitting on the couch with a towel around his waist, arms crossed and his lips pressed together, while Bambam was side hugging him like a koala to keep him glued down. 

 

“Kim Yugyeom,” Jackson yelled towards the kitchen. He tapped Jaebeom’s calf with his foot and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hope you’re ready to interrogate your fiancé.” 

 

Jaebeom turned his face to the side and pouted more. “That’s not what he is.” 

 

“I mean, it’s obvious you both made some kinda vow and exchanged promise gifts,” Bambam said. Jaebeom tried to shake him off, but to no avail. 

 

Yugyeom finally entered the kitchen, holding Jackson’s razor. “This was on the floor? Luckily, I only stepped on the handle.”  He gently set it down on the coffee table.

 

Jackson pointed to the couch and the youngest followed the silent command, sitting on the very edge of it with his hands nervously fisted against his thighs. “I really don’t know anything about portals. I can barely handle my empathy,” he immediately defended himself. 

 

Jackson held his hand up so he’d stop. “We both saw it, so unless you brought Youngjae back into the house--” 

 

“He barely even leaves the apartment,” Yugyeom confessed, coloring with embarrassment when he realized exactly what he just said. 

 

“Okay, leave the portal magic out of it for a sec, and just tell us what you’ve been up to. If we’re going to witness very strange and unnatural things, we deserve to know why.” 

 

Jaebeom did his best to look at Yugyeom. “You still don’t have to tell us the plan, but Youngjae might have influenced your ability to handle magic.” 

 

Yugyeom glanced between everyone with genuine fear, eventually hiding behind one of the decorative pillows and launching into a likely watered down version of his affairs. He was insistent that he was a willing participant in everything, and not feeling forced into anything. Not all of the story lined up or made sense because of how much he tried to leave out, so Jaebeom convinced Bambam to leave his lap and sidled beside Yugyeom. He took Yugyeom’s hand, examining the scar on his palm before lifting his shirt up to study the rune tattoo. All Jaebeom did was touch the mark and he pulled back. 

 

“How the fuck are you even alive right now,” he hissed and shook out his hand. 

 

“Youngjae hyung obviously doesn’t want him dead if his dick is that good,” Bambam shrugged. 

 

Yugyeom choked and coughed a little, ignoring the remark completely. “Youngjae hyung said this tattoo is like child’s play. Like I could have drawn it on with a marker. There’s barely any power in it. I know it’s the source of my empathy, but there’s no way it’s deep enough for  _ portals _ ,” he scoffed. 

 

If Jaebeom could sense the difference while Youngjae berated the symbol, Jackson had to wonder if the king’s magic was truly unlocked. Maybe he was just as affected by the human realm as they were--a little less control with slightly different abilities and techniques. The king was responsible for the increase in demonic creatures, but there was a chance he still wasn’t near brimming with the magic he once had while sitting on the throne. 

 

Jackson was the one to ink the dandelion rune into him, so he decided to compare it for himself. Yugyeom rolled his eyes and lifted his shirt, and Jackson didn’t even make contact before feeling the additional charge hiding beneath the surface. There was hurt and desperation, longing and adoration, and the entire spectrum of emotions between and he cringed away from it. He envisioned things he’d rather not have seen of Yugyeom’s sexcapades, just like before when he felt how Jaebeom was hate-fucking Youngjae against the wall. He still wishes they had turned out of the driveway that day. 

 

He shook his head and tapped his temple to try and get the images out of his mind. “That’s some real nasty shit you’ve done. I’m never gonna ask you about your shady plans ever again.” 

 

“Bet there’s a lot of biting involved. Hyung seems like a biter--all that sadness and anger because of the soul,” Bambam nonchalantly added. 

 

Yugyeom covered his face again and curled away from both Jackson and Jaebeom. “Just shut up, Bammie.” He peered over the pillow just enough to pout with his eyes at the two witches. “And stop toying with me already. It’s not very funny. If I had portal magic, I’d just poof one up right now.” 

 

“You have empathy, Gyeom, so maybe your portals are controlled by your emotions. I don’t lie about probable magic.” Jackson did everything he could to drive the point home so Yugyeom would believe them, but he still denied it until the very end. 

 

“Since you can’t actually prove I made a portal--because for all I know, you coulda just snuck in on me from the bathroom. You’re weirdly quiet when you wanna be, hyung--but until I see one for myself, thanks for already kicking me when I’m suffering.” 

 

He stood up and Jaebeom caught his wrist. “We can go to the library and talk--just us?” 

 

Yugyeom slumped his shoulders. “No, hyung, just gimme space.” 

 

Jaebeom wasn’t at all used to rejections from Yugyeom, and he was hesitant to let him go, silently asking Jackson for advice. It was best to give him what he wanted, and to fill the void after Yugyeom left, Bambam roped them into some chaotic dance game none of them were good at. 

 

~*~

 

Youngjae didn’t question when Yugyeom showed up to his apartment unannounced. He walked in quiet and upset, forgoing a verbal greeting to kneel on the floor between Youngjae’s legs and bowed his head, hiding his face in Youngjae’s lap. Youngjae played with his hair and lightly scratched down his back, comforting him through whatever hardship he escaped from. It only encouraged him to speed up their first step in extracting revenge just so Yugyeom wouldn’t have to return to the coven; taking care of him until he felt safe again became Youngjae’s priority. 

 

He gently persuaded Yugyeom to lift his head, pushing his bangs back and coddling his cheeks. “Should I make you something? Or we can lay down, huh? What does my brave little Gyeom want?” 

 

Yugyeom’s eyes fluttered with every soft touch Youngjae gave him. He eventually relaxed, and tugged on Youngjae’s shirt. “Is both too much to ask for?” 

 

Youngjae scoffed, but quickly recovered with a warm smile, booping the younger’s nose. “Of course not, silly Gyeom. Just rest and hyung will do everything.” He bent down and kissed Yugyeom’s forehead, eager to bundle him up on the couch, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to stay there alone. 

 

Yugyeom stood first, loosely hugging Youngjae’s arm after he got his feet, and they went into the kitchen. Youngjae pulled out some vegetables to chop and sauté, as well as a couple containers of instant rice since his main concern was comforting Yugyeom as soon as possible. He added eggs to the ingredients, and when Yugyeom finally solved the meal mystery, his posture contently slouched and he rested his forehead on Youngjae’s shoulder. “You remembered.” 

 

Youngjae smiled and ruffled Yugyeom’s hair. “How could I forget? You always ordered omurice on rainy days.” 

 

“I just...I dunno,” he shrugged. 

 

The hanging silence implied he had more to say, but couldn’t figure out the right words, so Youngjae patted his back and allowed him to help with cooking. Yugyeom timed the rice in the microwave while Youngjae chopped the onions and vegetables, cutting some spam and throwing it all together in a pan to fry. Once it was all stirred and seasoned, Yugyeom poured half the bowl of whisked eggs into the pan and Youngjae watched it, adding the fried rice mixture when the omelette was mostly done. He folded the egg over, and flipped the first finished meal onto a plate, repeating the process for the second one. He washed off the pan and spatula, and Yugyeom drizzled ketchup atop their omurice, and then they headed into the  bedroom together with the warm, filling comfort meal.

 

Youngjae didn’t mind food on the bed, but Yugyeom still opted to sit on the floor leaning against the bed frame. He couldn’t let him eat alone, so Youngjae took up the space beside him, his shoulders barely coming in contact with the metal. He hooked a leg over Yugyeom’s and finally dug into his food. The younger ate slower, tapping the prongs of his fork against the porcelain plate and taking a bite every few beats. 

 

“Would you like more ketchup? Or soy sauce?” 

 

Yugyeom solemnly shook his head and pursed his lips a little more. “No, it’s not...it’s not that, hyung.” 

 

Whatever the coven had done hadn’t been good. “You’re not obligated to finish your food, okay?” 

 

“It’s better if I try.” 

 

Youngjae watched him another minute, perplexed, but ultimately let him contemplate in silence. He tried to eat at the same pace Yugyeom was, and surprisingly, Youngjae was full first. Yugyeom ended up eating most of his meal, and he stacked their plates on the dresser to carry out later. They crawled under the blankets together, content with being fully clothed. Youngjae tucked Yugyeom’s hair behind his ear and fondly outlined the soft curves of his face with the tips of his fingers. 

 

“Thank you for helping me today,” Youngjae whispered. 

 

“I know you didn’t want me to. Sorry for disobeying.” 

 

Youngjae couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped. “I didn’t command you otherwise. You weren’t punished for it, right? It was obviously what you needed to do.” 

 

Yugyeom glanced towards the pillows between them. He nervously licked his lips and balled his hand into a loose fist, and whatever emotionally charged question he was gearing up for died when he sighed and relaxed into the mattress. “I’ll feel better soon, hyung. Promise.” 

 

He mumbled it more to himself, and Youngjae didn’t pry. Yugyeom rolled onto his back, shuffling restlessly until he was comfortable. And then he groaned and fumbled his hands along the pillows and the metal rungs of the bed frame. 

 

“What do you need, baby? I’ll find it for you,” Youngjae tried to soothe. 

 

“The water bottle. I  _ know  _ I brought it with us.” 

 

Youngjae, however, had a very strong image of the bottle having been abandoned on the kitchen counter next to the sink. “We left it after rinsing the pans. I can--” 

 

He watched Yugyeom’s hand grab hold of the large plastic reusable bottle, and for a second, his eyes played tricks--the space behind the bottle seemed to contain the glowing tiles of his kitchen, instead of the grey shadows of the room. Yugyeom made a sound of triumph, and Youngjae blinked and picked an eyelash out of his waterline to see the dark wall once again. He didn’t know what the split second incident was, and without any proof that the younger had really reached into another room, he couldn’t interrogate him. Youngjae was unnerved, but he couldn’t do much in the way of rewinding time. 

 

After Yugyeom had his fill, he offered it to Youngjae. He held it with both hands just to scrutinize the integrity of it, but the stability of the plastic was perfectly intact, no new scratches or warps that would have occurred if it did get dragged through an imaginary portal. He capped the bottle and carefully set it behind Yugyeom on the table. 

 

“Did the water offend you,” Yugyeom more or less jokingly asked. 

 

“No, but you did.” 

 

Yugyeom’s eyebrows rose and he shrunk further under the blankets. “Oh?” 

 

“Poor forgetful Gyeom,” Youngjae chided with a pout. He laid half on top of the younger, staring right into his worried brown eyes. He wanted nothing more than to share their nightmares together, take this moment somewhere else, but the need to keep Yugyeom innocent and safe bubbled to the surface and he had to stop himself from magically binding Yugyeom to the apartment. He couldn’t trap and seduce him when he was already being destructively taken advantage of by the traitors. So, Youngjae swallowed and returned a gentle smile. “You hadn’t realized that you missed greeting me? I let you stomp in, approach me disrespectfully, take refuge in my humble apartment--without asking why--and you haven’t said hello. All I got was a mediocre bow.” 

 

Yugyeom breathed in sudden relief, reading the lighthearted mood. “I said thank you, hyung.” 

 

Youngjae playfully hit his chest. “Thank you is not a greeting.” 

 

Yugyeom slid his long fingers into Youngjae’s hair and chuckled. “Good evening, my king. I came to wish for a pardon in running away from my duties.” 

 

Youngjae didn’t need the last part, but at least now he had an insight into Yugyeom’s inner monologue. Soon, Yugyeom wouldn’t have to run away. “Wish granted. I’d rather your fine company anyway, my loyal Gyeomie.” He kissed Yugyeom’s lips, the younger holding onto it instead of pushing him to end it, both of them humming warmly when they pulled away. “Now I’ll permit you sleep.” 

 

“Aren’t you sleeping, too?” Yugyeom’s eyes fluttered shut. 

 

“I will, after I make sure you won’t have nightmares.” 

 

Yugyeom deeply inhaled and released the breath as slowly as he could, touching Youngjae’s arm as he clearly wandered into his rest. “You’re too good to me, my king,” he deliriously slurred. 

 

Youngjae was only doing what he promised, nothing more. And while Yugyeom soundly slept, Youngjae finally opened the box of little relief--Yugyeom’s gift of revenge. He focused on the feather dangling off his ear lobe, caringly cradling Yugyeom’s tattooed waist over his clothes. He made the energy visible in his mind and imbued it with the purpose of balance and justice, and mentally conjured the monster. Youngjae prayed it would be able to track the coven’s house from Jaebeom’s energy nestled in the earring. Because finding the coven wasn’t the point of the exercise. Youngjae wanted their last point of defense  _ invaded _ . 

 

_ Violated _ . 

 

He nestled onto Yugyeom’s chest, wide awake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gyEOMMIE IS JUST DOIN HIS BEST OKAY PLS DONT BLAME HIM FOR ANYTHING 
> 
> instead yell at me here: [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> or scream at anto: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) or [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> and the gc is kinda quiet bc ppl are busy but if you still wanna join here's the stuff: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


	13. Scene XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am posting both final chapters together for flow + also so it's all posted before i have classes again. but really they are kinda meant to be together so if you miss reading the 12 chapter, i'd rec going back to read it before this one uwu

Jinyoung didn’t know what result he expected. Maybe he was hoping Yugyeom would sway Youngjae to come back, or at least have a face to face confrontation, even if it did cause the end of absolutely everything. Or he thought Yugyeom would return to check on their wounds after causing such a tragic attack to happen inside their own house. It had been days and the chairs and table in the dining area were still overturned; the kitchen counter had chunks of granite punched into dust on the floor, and none of them had enough strength to repair anything in the left hall, or fix the stairs leading to Jaebeom’s study and the attic’s black hole. 

 

They hadn’t seen the creature, but it had the manners of a shadowperson--stealthily shifting its energy from wall to wall, corner to corner. In one transparent swoop, it neutralized Jackson’s runes,  but he was too stubborn to let it get away, and he was still paying that price. Mark made it more than obvious that he planned to find Yugyeom and continue the cycle of punishment (by murder) for an incident that might not have even been Yugyeom’s fault. But, he could only do it after Jackson could stand on his own again. The two of them had taken up most of the master bedroom, and Jaebeom didn’t demand any of the space back. 

 

Jaebom had been curled on the couch since it happened, beaten and broken and mourning in some ways. Jinyoung had tried to comfort him like always--silently, without questions or advice or opinions, but the older only buried further into the couch, sinking into the cracks between the cushions. He hugged Yugyeom’s geode tight to his chest, and Jinyoung couldn’t tell if he was processing the complex nature of guilt, or if he was trying to telepathically and empathically connect with Yugyeom. Jinyoung understood Jaebeom would need to be in his mind for awhile, so he opted to fix the blanket over him once in awhile, and check that he was still breathing. 

 

Oddly, Bambam was the least scarred, having only minor cuts and bruises from the debris of objects. It could have been the rune, or Yugyeom’s influence over Youngjae actually working, convincing him that Bambam had no part in their war of justice and vengeance, and imprinting that into the attack. As he was in the best condition, he volunteered to do what he could to help with their healing process. He brought teas and ointments and bandages, traversing the remnants of Jackson’s workshop for his more magical remedies, and also cooked actual meals with what was salvaged, instead of a disgusting kitchen surprise. 

 

Jackson ate more than everyone else, but he had always made recovery a competition only because he knew his magic was vital in keeping the house and the group safe. 

 

Bambam appeared and gently grabbed Jinyoung’s hand. He led him into the dining area, sitting him in the single upright chair. He unwrapped the bandage from Jinyoung’s other wrist and forearm as if he had been bedside nursing for decades. “You’ve had this on for an entire day, hyung. You forgot to change it,” he said quietly. 

 

Jinyoung’s wound was an ugly gash, almost a carving up his arm. He was injured in his last attempt to stop the invisible monster from killing Jaebeom and reaching the attic. He was the reason the creature destroyed the stairs, but it meant it wouldn’t gain more power from the king’s residual energy hiding inside the house. Even if Jinyoung had lost his entire arm, he would have been content in their survival. 

 

“I was waiting for the right time,” Jinyoung lied. 

 

Bambam scoffed, not giving any warning when he carefully cleaned the wound with an antibiotic ointment to protect it from inflammation and infection. Being Jackson’s special creation, it was more than an uncomfortable ache and sting, but it was the best topical cure they had. “Let the air clear it out. I’ll bandage it again later, okay?” 

 

Jinyoung knew the importance of letting a wound breathe and dry out, but it was also a tactful move so he was forced to pay attention to what he was doing. He couldn’t cross his arms or tense the muscles or physically worry after everyone. He was just as injured, but he was hurting less and therefore taking care of himself had become obsolete. He couldn’t let Jaebeom lay there inside himself and disappear without a rope to pull him out when he was ready. 

 

Bambam bounced his legs a couple times and bit his lip. He dropped his tools on the table and sighed. “Hyung, he’ll be okay. I’ll watch him, so take a break.” 

 

Jinyoung wrung his hands and glanced at Jaebeom’s small, folded figure. “I have to be here.” 

 

“Right now, Jaebeom hyung and I are still on Yugyeom’s side. I don’t know how the attack happened, but Yugyeom doesn’t have that power. He might still be trying to make things right. So, if Jaebeom hyung needs that support, I’ll be here. And if he needs you, I’ll let you know. But the stress of not being able to help him right now won’t make your arm heal any faster.” He knitted his eyebrows and turned his gaze to the dead space between them. “You don’t have to leave this floor, but just do something for yourself for at least an hour, hyung.” 

 

Jinyoung almost pulled his superiority card, but then Bambam might have started throwing books at him until he gave in, so he flicked Bambam’s forehead and accepted his moment of rest. “If anyone dies--” 

 

“I’ll already be long gone before then,” Bambam playfully grinned. 

 

Jinyoung a little harshly ruffled his hair, but decided to find some quiet in the library. He observed Jaebeom again, close enough to touch him and leave him a lingering kiss on the back of his neck, but he balled his fist and softly exhaled, walking down the hall before he did anything else to shatter Jaebeom’s emotional state. 

  
  


*   
  


 

Yugyeom sat in the middle of Youngjae’s living room, hugging his knees to his chest and routinely teased Coco with a toy. The lights were dim, and he didn’t even care to know if it was nearing dusk. He had actually failed, and now he couldn’t return to the coven at all. The damage was done, and he wouldn’t ever know the extent of it, or be able to help them recover, or defend his innocence and loyalty. He was here, on the so-called enemy’s side, and the coven was sure to chase after him for it. Another addition to their already vicious cycle. 

 

He supposed this was how it was always meant to play out. He wanted concrete proof of the supernatural and paranormal, and he finally collided with it, and couldn’t let it go. He wanted in on the coven’s lives, and wanted magic to plant and sprout inside him so he could be a hero or a protector or a saver of worlds, and he understood why Jinyoung especially said he was being an idiot. 

 

Youngjae believed his suffering tale. Youngjae cared for him, even if in some ways it was only to fit his own goals. And Youngjae sent a grotesque, rabid shadow chimera after the coven because of him. Yugyeom was still upset about their lying with the portals, but he didn’t think escaping to Youngjae’s would cause the first attack to happen. He thought he would have unlocked Youngjae’s full potential, and that they would be in the witch realm long before the real revenge set into motion. 

 

Yugyeom was defeated, and couldn’t even muster up a single piece of optimism or a viable next step. Maybe it was better to sit here and survive within these boundaries and let Youngjae remotely coerce the rest of the soul out of Jaebeom. Yugyeom would feed his own guilt and terror until it twisted and knotted suffocatingly around his heart, even his last breaths filled with regret and apologies. 

 

Coco eventually flopped down as Yugyeom increasingly stopped showing interest in their game. There was a hollow ache churning his stomach and his muscles tensed and rattled. He was cold sweating and mentally rewinding time--reversing every single choice and mistake that had led to this point. He wouldn’t have taken Jaebeom’s earring, or ran into Youngjae’s arms after almost cutting his hand off. He wouldn’t have ever pried about the coven’s histories; that damn trunk from their realm shouldn’t have been opened. It was private and personal, and Yugyeom still blamed himself for triggering Youngjae’s memories, whether he was bound to remember on his own or not. He wouldn’t have called the coven when Bambam was sick, or gone along with summoning the Ouija pizza monster--something so incredibly childish and stupid led to a thousand different tragedies. 

 

And he would have become better friends with Youngjae before college. He wouldn’t have left him alone, or spent so much time wondering what he was up to after graduating high school while Yugyeom was still navigating his teen years. He wasn’t ever bad or neglectful as acquaintances, but if they had been closer, Yugyeom thought these events would have been more peaceful whether the coven ran into them first or otherwise. 

 

It was the seemingly insignificant details that could fix the future, but not even magic had that power of manipulation. 

 

Yugyeom’s rune tattoo suddenly burned as if it were fighting a plague, and beneath his reminiscing of a future that would never come to pass, he just longed to return one more time so Jaebeom and the others knew he hadn’t betrayed them. None of this was satisfying and Yugyeom was willing to sacrifice a limb or skin himself alive or literally sell his soul to the Devil if it would bring all of this to a happier end. 

 

He hoped Jackson still had that blood curse, though he wouldn’t put it past Youngjae to have had the creature destroy that bond of faux betrayal, as well. 

 

“ _ Oh _ , Gyeomie,” Youngjae rushed over. Yugyeom didn’t even know where he had been or what he had done, and there was no point in asking in case he was already told and just hadn’t paid attention. “Did I leave you too long?” He tried to wipe Yugyeom’s face down and expose more of his skin to the air so he’d stop sweating. He winced when Youngjae’s palm skittered over the tattoo, and instead of mocking it or moving on, he settled his hand over top. 

 

“Don’t read into it, hyung,” Yugyeom’s voice cracked, a severe lack of energy and volume. 

 

Youngjae worriedly pouted and dropped his head. “I knew the shift in your aura but…” He added more pressure and Yugyeom clenched his teeth as even more hurt and unnerving vibrations zipped under his skin. 

 

Yugyeom closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his chest was caving in; how he saw limestone in the dark of his mind; ignore the soft flickering silence before an eruption of tickled laughter and playful threats. He couldn’t tell if the pushed memory had come from Jaebeom or Youngjae, but it certainly belonged to both of them in the present. He gathered his resolve and tugged Youngjae closer. “Can I just ask you one thing? WIthout consequence?” 

 

Youngjae caressed his thumb over Yugyeom’s tattoo. He was wary, but he nodded. 

 

“Was it satisfying? Attacking them first instead of just...taking your soul back?” Yugyeom relaxed his legs and nervously ran his fingernail along Youngjae’s other palm, counting the lines and imagining what they meant just in case he was going to have his head chopped off. 

 

Youngjae slumped his weight onto his calves and settled his gaze on a random spot on the floor. “It was...almost invigorating. At first. Like an adrenaline high. I had power--I could summon, and torture, and  _ own _ and take.” He paused for several minutes, and Yugyeom convinced him to move onto the couch so they could stretch out and comfortably lay with each other for support. Once Yugyeom draped a blanket over them, Youngjae continued. “I only give what I receive. They already had their warnings before I fell into the void, and I know they hurt you, but reclaiming my soul for you would have been equal enough.” 

 

“I shouldn’t have let you do it, but I didn’t want you to doubt my loyalties, too.” 

 

“No, Gyeomie, you were right. You wouldn’t have been safe.” Youngjae tilted his head to stare at Yugyeom, and Yugyeom gave into his urge to kiss his forehead. They both had their flaws in this feud, and they only had the option to fix their mistakes, or carry on with the original plan since Yugyeom was stuck in his own imaginary future without the means to return to the witch realm. 

 

“What comes next?” 

 

“What would you do? Still be a king? No consequences,” he mimicked Yugyeom’s clarification. 

 

Yugyeom secured his arm around Youngjae’s waist. He couldn’t explain the entire truth without stirring doubt, but he could cut it down and try to earn himself a break from the exhausting emotions seeping in from his rune and distant geode. “Right now, all I can truthfully say is I don’t want to leave. I don’t know what making me a king will do, or what going back would do, and this definitely can’t be fixed with an apology--I don’t have advice, hyung. But I’m here, and I’ll help you.” 

 

Youngjae sighed and laid his head on Yugyeom’s shoulder. He hooked their legs together, fingertips still gently tracing Yugyeom’s tattoo. “Silly Gyeom, thinking I’d even permit you to leave if you asked nicely.” He pouted and said it without much force. 

 

They cuddled in silence and Yugyeom absently concentrated on Youngjae’s weight stretching along his side, the contrast of warmth from the blanket with the cold air hugging his arms. Coco’s toes clacked on the wood flooring, and for some reason it reminded him of his fingernails against the cobblestone of the library. The space held the same conflicting temperatures of a warm fireplace surrounded by freezing earth, held some of the answers to their feud in fading and breaking spines, but they weren’t written by sources Youngjae was likely to believe. 

 

He missed the heartbeat of the coven’s house. Even in the face of trials and wounds, the house still thrived with a promise of safety, and the witches within had a pact to survive through everything. He owed them so many explanations, and apologies, and he was willing to have Jackson null the magic in his tattoo until it was just basic black ink for them to believe him. He ached for Jaebeom--he had done too many wrongs for words to ever make it right; Jinyoung was in that category, too. Yugyeom wanted to hide and be held by both of them until they understood he wasn’t stolen or manipulated. 

 

Yugyeom remembered Jaebeom’s gentle, rumbling voice guiding him through his first lessons of the geode, connecting to his empathy and starting the entire revelation. He saw the twists and turns of tree trunks and roots mapping out the entire city with streams and rivers and the bustle of public transit in the middle, but never becoming a major interruption. He wormed through the dirt, sensitive to the vibrations of footsteps, and at the end of the venture was always the dimmed homely ambiance of the basement library. 

 

Yugyeom groaned at the uncomfortable hardness against his back, forgetting why they’d be on the floor. He shifted carefully thinking that maybe he had been laying in the same position too long with Youngjae on top of him. But they both blinked at each other and then glanced at their lighter, larger surroundings, and Jinyoung’s startled gaze was dead on them. 

 

Youngjae shook Yugyeom trying to figure out how the fuck they were in the coven’s library, faced with one of their current enemies. 

 

“Uh, hi? Hyung, I’m alive, but…” 

 

“What the  _ hell _ \--” Jinyoung raised his voice and jogged towards the stairs while screaming for backup. 

 

Youngjae was clinging to him with murderous intent, and Yugyeom shut his eyes tight, stuffing his panic back down and imagining the darker wood of Youngjae’s apartment, and poor confused Coco and the metallic water of the pipes keeping his complex working, and when Yugyeom braved to open again, thankfully, they were back on the couch. 

 

In complete disarray. 

 

Youngjae immediately hopped to his feet and faced Yugyeom. “Mind telling me what  _ that  _ was? Or about how you  _ also _ grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen while in the  _ bedroom _ , too? How gullible was I to think it was a trick of my imagination!” 

 

Yugyeom raked his hands through his hair and bounced his legs, on the very edge of biting his lip off. “No, no,  _ no _ . I didn’t--did I? It was supposed to be  _ you _ , not me.” He shook his head. “This isn’t right...is it?” He looked at Youngjae, but it was obvious he didn’t have the answers. “How could  _ I _ …?” 

 

Yugyeom thought of the geode again, and the  _ Moon Ailments  _ book, initialed by Taemin. And Taemin had said there was something stronger in him he had to trust. He was the first in a long time to unlock the empathy powers within that geode, and he was a new center to the coven’s entire cycle. Jackson and Jaebeom hadn’t ever lied to him, and he was really so oblivious and stupid to think otherwise just because they were rambling unbelievably about portals. He had meant for Youngjae to create random rips in space, but he fingered over his tattoo and the coven’s reactions. 

 

His eyes widened as he finally solved the puzzle. “Holy  _ shit _ . Taemin was right.  _ I  _ am the key.” 

 

Youngjae fixed his posture to appear commanding and intimidating, cornering Yugyeom where he sat on the couch so he couldn’t escape or breathe correctly. “Right about  _ what _ , Yugyeom?” His eyes narrowed and he crouched down just slightly to be on Yugyeom’s level. “The key to what?” 

 

For the first time since being with Youngjae. he feared for his survival. A king’s leveled gaze was terrifying to the core. Yugyeom folded his hands and wrung them in his lap, his gaze no less steady and confident. “The key to your realm, my king. To get back home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sO END OF BOOK2 Y'ALL and idk when book 3 will be written and put up bc i have been very neck-deep in classes and then i'll have to like do adult career finding stuff so just bear with me and be patient until anto and i have time to focus on writing book3 for you all. this au has been on hiatus/break before and y'all were so lovely about it 
> 
> Honestly it's been such a ride with the ppl that are reading this and giving compliments and reactions. It's really such a nice feedback yall are incredible for supporting us this way. It's a giant project and I am so happy even a few people are talking about it and giving kudos and everything. It means so much to see our efforts being validated uwu 
> 
> Anyway if you wanna talk at all about this au or other things, I will still be on the usual sns 
> 
> this is me, and CC is anon for those who are shy/anxious, you don't need an acct to send me a q/comment on cc <3 : [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) \+ [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)
> 
> our lovely co-conspirator anto: [anto twt](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi) or [anto cc](https://curiouscat.me/peachesnpepi)
> 
> and the gc is kinda quiet bc ppl are busy but if you still wanna join here's the stuff: [like the tweet here](https://twitter.com/peachesnpepi/status/1089311529705656321) to be added or dm anto


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